Dead Wrong
by Meg2
Summary: Follows Dead and Gone, spoilers all nine books, some short stories
1. Chapter 1

**Preface**

Note added in October 2009:

In the four months since this story and this preface were written, one of the things that has come to this writer's attention was that some of her readers have been really unpleasant to Charlaine Harris. I would hope that her readers and her fans would frankly just cut the woman some slack. I've edited this original preface to try to remove any suggestion that somehow, Ms. Harris just doesn't give a damn about reader reactions, because it's clearly not true for any writer. _Dead and Gone_ was not a very good book, but that's not a reason to be mean or intrusive in her life and work.

* * *

**Older Preface**

So you know there are a lot of frustrated Eric and Sookie fans out there when they start emailing fanfic authors about their disappointment after the most recent book. Quite a few people have asked me to continue writing E&S fanfiction, but it's been a real challenge, since I can't say I even like Sookie as a character after _Dead and Gone_, and to be perfectly frank, I don't even really think she _deserves_ Eric based on how she behaves with him.

But before you all get all sad and even more frustrated, here's a much requested Eric and Sookie story that follows _Dead and Gone_. The challenges included:

- Making the reader think that Sookie was just slammed with the effects of the harried pace and the many terrible things that happened to her, and to people she knew, in _DAG_. She was just too numb to react properly with anyone about anything. Like you know, Crystal and Claudine dying horrible deaths while pregnant, or the real reason to go to Tray Dawson's funeral is for TRAY not for Amelia, since Tray died defending Sookie, after all.

- Make the reason that Eric didn't come to rescue Sookie from the fairies plausible in the context of Eric's world.

- Make sense of the hanging threads, like the FBI plot thread.

- Redeem Sookie as a character, by starting to make her not just grow up, but grow a heart where the Viking is concerned.

- Develop more general life experience for Sookie so that she can put her telepathic gift and her ability to use it in a work capacity in better, _much_ less whiny perspective.

- And maybe make some love scenes that don't sound _cold hearted_.

- Oh, yeah, and my personal holy grail: remember when they actually used to laugh and have fun together? Hmmmmm. That was so far back.... maybe in _Club Dead_? Oh yeah, they used to like each other a bit. Hmmmm.

So I tried.

Some people out there may get testy about a certain aspect of this story. Hey, it's just a point of view, and really, given that Harris's original message appeared to be about tolerance and trying to make a better, broader world, cut me some slack, okay? It was pretty hard to find an angle to take Sookie that made me like writing her. She's so unpleasant in Book 9 that it's hard to write from her perspective. One aspect of the story has its origin in a very personal connection and was totally apropos for Memorial Day time. Plus, I can honestly say that in recent weeks, it's sadly not looking too far-fetched on the foreign front

This story is for Judy, Holly, Sinead, Margie, Aishe, Ange, and Fran, and the many other people who PM'd me about their intense disappointment about or frustration with _Dead and Gone _or telling me how much they enjoyed the other stories I've written and won't I please write more. You ladies are all so sweet. Thanks!

And this story is dedicated to the memory of Danny, who died in Kandahar in 2004. Your friends will never forget your message about how to create an _enduring_ better and more peaceful world. Properly educating children is the key to a better world.

So Dear Reader, I hope you find something to enjoy here and that if you hate it, you're not too bruising on the comments. (I'm trembling in my flats considering some of the stuff you guys have said about _Dead and Gone_ and stalled on publishing this because of that fact...)

And when you're done, if you liked the story, go check out the Central Asia Institute or read Greg Mortensen's _Three Cups of Tea_. The best antidote to unhappiness with your favorite series' latest outing is to read other books. _Three Cups of Tea_ is a good place to start. There's more to this world than vampires, ya know.

**Note to Readers: **Some brief passages in this story are in Swedish and you're meant to feel much as Sookie does in not understanding what's being said. No translations are provided in the text. If you want some sort of brief translation, you can go to: _translate_ dot _google_ dot _com _(Just put . for dot for that URL.) And remember internet translators aren't perfect. It should give you a feel for what's being said, though.


	2. Chapter 1 for real

**I.**

**Early February 2006**

I looked at the caller ID before answering the call. Bill.

"Hello," I said quietly. I was sitting in their dark family room, watching a movie with Tara and JB.

"Sookie, how are you?" Bill said, sounding rather tense.

"Fine. I'm watching the movie 'V for Vendetta' with Tara and JB. Can I call you later?' I said softly.

In the background I heard Eric say, "Give me the phone. Leave me."

I cringed and suddenly felt an inexplicable urge to hang up. I resisted it.

"Sookie?" Eric's voice sounded tense, but it was softer than when he had been speaking to Bill.

I was silent for several seconds as I rose, gesturing to Tara that she shouldn't stop the DVD. I went outside on the back porch, into the chill night air.

"Eric?" I said in a cautious reply.

"I am under the impression that you are avoiding speaking to me. I have left you six messages, including one with the shifter and you have not returned my calls. You have not even returned a message from Pam. And yet you answer a call from Bill."

I was silent. As I'd gotten farther removed from the sheer terror phase of what I had been through, I'd made it through the shell-shocked phase and now I'd arrived at the anger phase. I was pretty much stuck in the anger phase. What could I say? Fuck you all for sending sweet but mindless Bubba to take care of me, and for everything that happened as a result of the half-assed protection I was supposed to be so grateful for? Your King's gratitude for my saving his life and yours is completely underwhelming me? You didn't come to rescue me when I was being tortured by sadistic fairies and Bill did and almost died, so I'll take his calls even if I'm avoiding anything but the ordinary at present because I'm so sick of all the supernatural savagery in the world? How about the simple and straightforward I don't want to deal with any of you and just want to be left alone? But I was my grandmother's well-brought up child…

"Well, I was expecting a call from someone and just had the phone right near me," I said quietly. It was true. I had asked Amelia to call me when she got back to New Orleans tonight. I was hoping she would. Because then it might mean that she wasn't totally blaming me for Tray's death and that our friendship wasn't at a terrible endpoint. That our friendship wasn't one more thing that was lost to me or that Neave and Lochlan and Breandan had managed to cut out of my life with their knives and razors and swords. My eyes smarted with tears I was too angry and too weary to cry.

Eric was silent on the other end of the line. Finally, he said,

"I'd like to see you, Lover. I'd like to speak with you in person. I can be at your house shortly. When will you be coming home?"

Why did it sound to me like that meant he was at Bill's house, using Bill's cell phone because he had checked out my house and found that I was not at home and figured that I might answer a call from Bill? I didn't want to talk. About what had happened, about us, about… anything. I wanted space. Distance. Silence.

"I can't tonight. I'm watching a movie with friends. I'm working tomorrow night. You can go to Merlotte's if you want. But tonight I'm busy. Actually, I need to go back inside. I'm missing the movie. I don't think I'll be going home tonight. I'm staying with my friends. So tomorrow's better."

Eric was silent on the other end, as if not quite sure what to say. Well, that was certainly a new experience. For both of us. I was sure he could tell I wasn't exactly being up front with him.

"Eric, I really need to go back inside because I'm getting cold. Tomorrow, then, right? Good night. Tell Bill I said good night, too," and then I simply hung up without waiting for an answer.

Time. Maybe I just needed more time. But would time really make things better? It had been a week since all of the dreadful events that had left my world in a shambles. Tomorrow I was starting back to work, since I really needed the money to stay within my budget, now that Amelia had moved out. As I sat back down on the couch, I got a text message from Amelia.

_Arrived. Take care._

I felt utterly hollow inside. My grandfather's enemies had almost killed me, and Bill, and they _had_ killed Claudine, Tray and Clancy, who were all dead because they had the misfortune of protecting me. They had probably ruined my friendship with Amelia. Plus, in one fell swoop I had lost three fifths of my family- Niall and Claude, who were returning forever to Faery, and Claudine, who was lost to the Summerlands. Jason and Hunter were all the family I had left. Jason was still not exactly over the fact that I had not told him about Niall for several months and that Niall wanted to know me and not him. And Hunter was a secret. I even felt bad about Crystal, who had been a victim first of my brother's friend Mel, but then ultimately of the sick fairy duo. I had never liked her, but she had been seven months pregnant with my brother's child. Claudine had probably been around five or six months pregnant. I so wanted children myself and couldn't imagine them dying with theirs. It was all simply horrifying. This was my life. And it was… horrifying.

I tried to get back into the movie, which was about making yourself immune to any type of fear, terror and abuse, whether psychological or physical, so that you could emerged unscathed from anything and be truly free. But it was just a movie. Whereas my life was too painful both emotionally and physically at present to even think about any kind of freedom. Since I had rescued Bill from being tortured by Lorena and now he'd, rather ironically, rescued me in the same sort of circumstance, I had to ask him sometime about the whole unscathed business. Because I really wasn't seeing how that was going to be possible. I was still healing, and between Eric's blood and my grandfather's healing kiss at our parting, there was at least some chance that I would not be permanently disfigured. I could firmly say that my bikini days appeared to be in the past unless I really wanted to flaunt my scars or have plastic surgery or something. But healing mentally, emotionally? That was going to be much harder. There were no kisses and no manner of blood that could fix those memories. Even if the physical scars actually faded, I was going to be left with those other ones for keeps.

Five minutes after I sat down I received a text message from Bill's cell phone number. I opened it with trepidation.

_I didn't have a choice. He told me to call you. He is very upset that you are not returning his calls._

I felt conflicted but texted back,

_I really can't deal with any of you right now. I want to be left alone. Sorry._

I didn't even care if Eric was the one who had sent the message from Bill's phone to see more of what my current mindset was. I was just too worn down by everything to care about bruised feelings. I had too many very real bruises of my own.

I still didn't understand why Eric hadn't come to help me when Neave and Lochlan were in the process of slicing me with knives and razors and biting flesh out of my thighs and hips and breasts. While they beat me, but just not senseless enough so I couldn't see and feel what they were doing to me. He had not come. Eric's blood had healed the bitten out parts to a large extent and most of the slashes and gouges. But it hadn't healed my mind. Even my great-grandfather's parting kiss hadn't. As the days passed, rather than feeling better mentally, I felt worse as I saw the grim looks of Sam, Bill, and even Claude when he came to say goodbye to me. Eric called me several times the first few nights, but did not visit after that second night when he gave me a bit more blood. After that second night I just stopped picking up, or returning, his calls. I was too depressed, I guess. Amelia left for New Orleans the day after Tray's funeral. She stopped in Lafayette to visit friends before returning home tonight. We had hardly spoken since Tray's death. I knew that even if she didn't directly blame me for what happened to him, that she thought that I had been the source of her sorrow. I could not disagree with her. Tray and Claudine had died because of me, had died protecting me. Even Clancy had. Bill had almost died. I couldn't deal with the fact that it just seemed like the cost of it all had been so high. Maybe too high. People talk about survivor's guilt. Well, it crushes you. I felt as if I had been in a fog those few days after Crystal's death and now, in retrospect, I questioned virtually everything I had done leading up to the fateful night when I had ultimately been the cause of three people's deaths. I had a feeling I would question for a long time to come. And I still wondered if Bill would survive, since he looked so very ill when I had seen him the day before yesterday.

I thought about talking to Eric about what had happened and the hollowness I felt inside just echoed even more. He hadn't come. I thought of that hour in that shack in Arkansas and all I could think of was that I would never forget two things. That it was possible to survive such horror, whether you even wanted to survive anymore or not, and that Eric hadn't come to save me when I was being bitten and practically flayed alive by two beings that could only be described as fiends.

"Tara, could I stay in your guestroom tonight? Would that be okay?"

She glanced over at me, almost puzzled.

"Are you okay? You look kind of upset." She looked at me more closely, with concern. I didn't reply. She reached over and stroked my arm. "Sure, you can stay with us, Sook. Don't you bother yourself. That accident really seems to have shaken you up, eh? You know you can stay with us as long as you want. You're gonna be fine."

Then she turned and went back to watching the movie. JB was holding her hand.

I envied her.

**

* * *

**

I didn't even notice exactly when Eric entered the bar. There was a 9 o'clock rush and we were packed. I was busy serving tables and I barely had enough strength back to be doing what I was doing. Sam had almost sent me home by 8 pm but I pleaded with him, pointing out that I really needed the money after missing a week of work and losing Amelia's contribution to the monthly expenses. He helped me by carrying my heavier trays.

I also didn't notice Eric entering because I didn't feel that usual warm and balmy verve through the bond. It was almost like it had been damaged ever since Neave and Lochlan had had their fun with me. Like it was worn out or worn down. Frayed at the edges. But at least it was clear they hadn't sliced up the bond entirely, since I felt an icy tension that was not just my own.

After speaking briefly with Sam and eyeing me as I worked delivering pitchers of beer and baskets of burgers, Eric sat at the bar rather than at my already packed station. I felt so edgy, as I felt him watching me carefully. He seemed to be talking to Sam, who finally called me over. After looking rather darkly at Eric, Sam said tersely that we could talk in his office. Eric rose and put his arm around my shoulders. Without even understanding why, I just tensed up.

"What about my tables Sam? Are you going to cover my tables _and_ the bar?"

Sam looked at me and without even needing to catch Eric's eye said,

"Sure," he said with a smile. "What do you think I did while you were out, cher? I can get by just fine. Don't you worry. You go talk as long as you need to."

Eric guided me back to Sam's office for the talk I didn't want to be having. After closing the door, he pulled me gently into his arms and held me. I felt weak. After several moments he bent his head lower and tipped my chin up and kissed me for a long time. He combed his fingers through my ponytail and then cupped the back of my head in his hand. His head hung down, chin almost touching his chest, eyes closed. Then he kissed my forehead and rested his chin on the top of my head. I felt like I was numb.

After a few more minutes like that, he took my hand and walked toward Sam's desk and sat down, pulling me into his lap. Then he looked me in the eyes.

"I missed you, Lover."

"Well, you've only seen me a few times in the past three months. So it must not have been too bad." I internally chastised myself as the words left my lips. I was already so on edge and now I was acting like a word that rhymed with witch when it seemed he was trying, on some level, to act comforting. I was, it seemed, beyond comforting. Or maybe I just wouldn't _let_ anyone comfort me.

I observed an ever so slight stiffening in his back.

"I would like to to talk to you about the night you were attacked. I told you I wanted to explain, once you were safe, why I was delayed. I wanted to be sure you understood why I couldn't come…"

I realized that I simply couldn't have this conversation. I couldn't bear it. There were things that I just didn't want to hear, didn't want to face. Eric's reasons were just one of the many. I had cost three people their lives, no matter how I looked at it. Almost four, considering Bill looked basically gray when I'd seen him three days before. And how did it all come about? I was supposed to be protected. But somehow it just seemed like that protection was little more than smoke and mirrors. The consequences of trusting that protection? People I knew had died for me_. Died because of me_. And I'd been carved up and bitten within an inch of my life. I was alive and three people were dead and gone. Eric's reasons didn't even matter. And I didn't want to hear some pack of excuses or regrets or apologies. Maybe too, no amount of protection could cover the cost of bad judgment. But still, I was angry about having received poor protection and at myself for trusting it.

"Look Eric, you guys are under no _real_ obligation to take care of me, okay? Clancy said it. I'm not your kind. He was right. I still can't believe he died fighting for something he didn't even agree with. But anyway, I know it sounds all dramatic and nice, Vampire Kings granting their protection, being so 'yours' and all that shit, but really in the end, it was all just platitudes and dramatic gesture on Felipe's part. I get it. I can be grown up about it. I don't need you to come and hug me and try to make it all better. Because really, it's not something that you can fix other than what you've already tried to do, after the fact. The blood was fine. Generous even. You didn't let Breandan get me. And I'm square with Bill. I saved him from Lorena and he saved me from the fairy fiends. Other than everybody that died, we're all square. Okay?"

I tried to rise from his lap, but he held me in place and looked even tenser.

"Would you settle down. I want to explain some things to you. I want you to understand…"

"Understand what? Bubba was the best you could do when I asked for protection? Look, just… forget it." I somehow managed to extricate myself from his hold and rose. I guess he wasn't going to hold onto me too hard because I still had some sutures, and bruises. "But for the record, Tray was more useful than Bubba was, even if he got tricked, too. At least he had some_ sense _he'd been tricked and compelled and poisoned. He left after telling me. At least I knew I wasn't really safe. Maybe the next time you guys think about offering to protect people, you should just hire Weres and not send Bubba. That way you don't even have to get put out at all or risk your people if it all goes south. And they're totally expendable to you right? Powerful, but not your kind. If they get killed you probably don't even have to pay up. Sounds like a plan. Better still, you guys should just skip the offers of protection. It's false security."

He looked at me as if stunned.

"Sookie, would you just sit and listen to me…"

"I don't want to talk. I don't want to listen. What I want is to get back to work. My area is packed. And I really need the tips."

I started to open the office door and faster than a lightening strike, he was at the door slamming it closed again and looking down at me. The look on his face was twisted with anger and with something that I just couldn't quite understand.

"I know you are angry, Sookie. I know you feel like I didn't take care of you. You don't have _any _idea what I did just to go fight and to keep you safe. I defied orders and had to put down something of a rebellion with my own people to go and fight for you. Bill went with Niall, then I came to defend you. I lost Clancy defending you. I felt everything. _Everything_ that you endured. I tried to give you strength. And when I told you that you were killing me by saying that you didn't understand why I didn't come to you, I meant every word of it. You are mine. You have been grievously harmed and I understand your anger. And I am proud that you survived but I am not happy that you _had_ to survive anything. I _wanted_ to protect you. I…"

I cut him off with a wave of my hand in front of his face.

"Just stop. Stop. Listen, I'm sorry if I have caused you a lot of problems. You know, you told me once a year ago that I was so much trouble. Well, maybe I'm _too much_ trouble, Eric. Maybe I should take a leaf from Niall's book and just say 'let's call it a day', okay? Maybe we should just call it quits. Whatever protection you guys all feel you owe me, you, Felipe, whoever, just forget it. The whole vampire marriage thing? The one I took being tricked into for the so-called added protection? Forget about it, Eric. Because _I_ am. Just quit trying to help me. You've done quite enough. Just… leave me alone. What I really want is for all of you to just leave me alone. Frankly, the more I get protected, the more hurt I get. Claudine is the only one who ever managed to protect me for any length of time without getting me in even more trouble and I got her _killed_. Really… _leave me alone._"

His arm suddenly went slack on holding the door shut and without looking up to meet his eyes I opened the door and walked back out into the bar to serve my tables. I had the impression of his standing near the bar looking at me for several minutes and I felt twisted internal conflict from him and even from myself, but it faded away. I didn't see him leave. I would have cried if I'd had the luxury of the time to do so. But we were packed and I had no such luxury.

There were several Weres in my station but Sam wouldn't let me serve them. I caught them looking at me darkly. I vaguely knew that they were friends of Tray Dawson's. Clearly, they knew something about the truth of his passing from the dark and guarded looks that they gave me. I told Sam that I should be serving them but he just deflected me,

"I'll handle them, cher. Just keep on working the other tables. And if you need any help lifting trays just ask me. Just… take it easy."

Yep, I'd gotten Tray killed and they knew it. Sam was just trying to shield me from my new reality. I glanced back at the table with the Weres and wondered if I would ever be able to live and work the same way here in Bon Temps again. Even the local Weres disliked or distrusted me now? Really, I wondered what else could go possibly wrong in my life? I recounted, as I served my tables, all the many things that had happened to me in my twenty-six and a half years here. I had been molested as a child by my uncle, my parents had been murdered, my grandmother murdered, my cat killed, I had almost been murdered, plus I'd been beaten up multiple times, shot, staked, betrayed by my first lover in multiple ways, basically raped in the trunk of a car by the same betraying lover who was out of control, my house had been set on fire, I'd been attacked by an revenge-seeking vampire, attacked by a newly turned vampire, kidnapped, not once but twice, forced into a blood bond with a very old vampire, almost blown up, a vampire takeover had ended up on my own doorstep, and most recently I had been tortured by sadistic fairies. I was sure there was more I was forgetting but frankly, it was enough of a list just with all those things. I had almost been killed several times over, but this last time, with the fairies, well… it was just the limit of what I could take. My body had been beaten and sliced and bitten and flayed and I doubted any amount of vampire blood, fae magic and plastic surgery could put me completely right. And that wasn't even putting me right again in my heart and mind. Was this rock bottom? What if it _wasn't_? What if my life could get even worse?

I was reminded of something Eric had said to me a year ago, after I got shot. 'You must be living wrong.' Maybe he was right.

That night I went home to my empty house and sat in the dark in the living room. I fell asleep on the couch, wrapped up in my grandmother's old quilt.

The following morning, before even showering, I pulled a card down from the refrigerator door as I drank my coffee. I picked up the phone and dialed.

"Good morning, Agent Weiss? This is Sookie Stackhouse…"


	3. Chapter 2

**II.**

**May 2009**

I sang along with the new Neko Case album on the drive back from Quantico to Alexandria. Tonight was my Irish Book Club night. We were still slogging our way through _Finnegans_ _Wake_. I was trying hard to enjoy it but it was an effort. The club, however, was a delight. I was looking forward to heading to Thistle and Shamrock Booksellers and chatting with some of the people I'd grown to enjoy casual conversation with, have an Irish meal in their company and talk about books. I'd learned a lot about Irish, Scottish and Welsh history and culture. I had Irish roots, on my paternal grandfather's side of the family and of course my paternal grandmother's family was Welsh. But my actual roots had been lost in the past three years. Or more accurately, they had been buried away. _Red Tide_ was interrupted by my cell phone ringing through Bluetooth in the car audio system, cutting off the music.

"Gordon," I said, not even able to really see the number on the caller ID on my phone as I answered, because of the late afternoon glare.

"Sasha, it's Calum. Listen we're calling everyone to let them know that we're canceling Book Club for tonight. Catriona's feeling a bit under the weather and I'm staying in to tend her. So I'm closing the bookshop for the night. But we'll hopefully be on for next week."

I sighed, disappointed. But Catriona was very ill and, of course, she should be Calum's number one priority.

"Tell Catriona I hope she feels better. I'll keep her in my thoughts, okay? Maybe I'll try to bring you an apple pie on Sunday. She loves my Gran's pie recipes."

"Sure thing, mo chuisle. Take care and see you next week if not sooner."

I guessed that it would be another quiet night, and I hadn't even left anything defrosting in the fridge, so it was likely going to be lean pickings for dinner. Oh well, I could just read further in my annotated _Finnegans Wake_ and snack, I told myself. _Finnegan_ was a challenging read. Ahmed, a colleague of mine, had given me the annotated version. He certainly knew what _he_ was doing, I thought with a smile. I'd felt like I was reading so far above my head in that book I thought I'd drown. I had been reading serious literature for the past few years. I was continually aware of the fact that I lacked a formal education, but was trying to get one as I read. The same was true of my broader world experience.

Traffic was heavier than usual on the Beltway. I probably would have been late to the meeting if it had gone forward, anyway. If I'd known about the meeting being canceled just a bit earlier I'd have stayed on the 395 instead. I sighed as I saw the sun setting in my rearview mirror. I listened to the Dixie Chicks when Neko Case was finished. 'The Long Way Around' was certainly an appropriate sentiment not just for my life, but my present options for getting home. Traffic just wasn't moving at all. Finally, I got off the Beltway and just drove side streets.

I got to my apartment building at 8:40 pm. After parking my car in the garage, I buzzed into the building and caught site of Wallace, our building manager. I called out 'Good evening, Wallace' but he seemed as if he didn't hear me and just lumbered on his way toward his apartment. It seemed odd, since he was usually almost disturbingly talkative, but I could savor the silence this once. It had been a long day. I opened my mailbox and took out the two envelopes addressed to Sasha Gordon, and my new issue of _The Economist_, to which I had been subscribing for the past two years. Excellent foreign affairs analysis that I could actually understand. And some interesting stuff about politics and business to boot. I flipped through it. It usually took me the full week to get through a single issue. I took the stairs, instead of the elevator, up the five flights of carpeted stairs and headed down the hallway to my apartment, 5C. When I hit the fifth floor landing, I had the oddest sensation. First, I thought that I caught just a trace of a familiar scent. But it was so faint that I couldn't quite place it, though it seemed so familiar to me. And then I felt an odd sensation, like a stirring some place deep inside. It was like a sudden welling of anticipation, but also of apprehension. I just blew it off and pressed on toward my apartment. I was tired. I'd been up since 6 am.

I unlocked and opened the door and entered, locking the two locks behind me and then silencing the alarm. I tossed the mail on the table near the door. Without even bothering to put on the lights in the living room, I strode toward the open kitchen area.

"Rosie… Rosie-Cat. Elsa Rose, where _are_ you?" It was pretty unusual not to have Rosie greeting me at the door. I joked with her all the time, telling her she was not a proper cat at all because she was so very friendly. She was really like a small dog, not at all reserved like your usual kitty.

The entire wall, from the living room to kitchen, in front of me was floor to ceiling plate glass windows. The view of the Potomac, Arlington Cemetery and the District with all its memorials, in the distance was unobstructed and totally spectacular from here in the Arlandria. It was what I loved best about my apartment, the reason why I'd chosen it of the three they'd shown me, even though it was a longer drive from Quantico. A lot of times I'd leave the lights off and spend time just looking at the view, thinking it was hard to believe that I really lived here, so close to the Capitol and to so much history.

As I moved toward the kitchen, with my back to the living room space, I suddenly became aware that something was very wrong. Someone else was in the apartment. There was actually a void spot. The someone was a vampire. The scent on the landing of the fifth floor… vampire. Following all my training, I moved no differently but when I got to the counter I dropped my purse and was able to whip my Glock 22 our of my shoulder holster and unlatch it's safety and chamber a bullet all in one move as I spun around toward the living room. My heart was already pounding but that was nothing compared to what it did when I met his glowing eyes. He was seated on the leather couch, one long leg casually crossed over the other and he appeared to have been reading a magazine in the darkness. He was dressed all in black, leather jacket, t-shirt and dark jeans, black boots. His hair was loose around his shoulders. Rosie was sitting next to him, on the quilt, kneading her paws happily as if she had been petted. A low voice broke the silent tension.

"You're early, Lover. I didn't think you'd be here until well after 10 pm. No Book Club meeting?"

I trembled as I futilely kept the gun pointed toward him and involuntarily let out a long shuddery breath. But I couldn't shoot him. Even though it might give me some chance to get out that double-locked door. I simply… couldn't. That was the realization to make me tremble. Fifteen rounds and I simply could not fire a one.

He rose and quickly covered the distance from the couch to where I stood at the kitchen entry. He loomed over me, and took gentle hold of my hand, the only part of me that was steady, and pointed my gun away toward the wall. He bent down and kissed my cheek and then looked at the gun in a mildly interested fashion.

"A Glock. Are you any good with it? I seem to remember your being a fairly good shot with a shotgun."

I looked straight at his chest and continued shaking almost uncontrollably.

"How did you get in? How did you get into my apartment uninvited?" my voice shuddered.

"I glamoured the building manager and asked him to invite me inside. Quite simple. He disarmed and then reset the alarm for me. I didn't want to chance that you'd be afraid to enter after finding it off."

I just nodded silently. Well, it was ironic that after going to all the trouble of the scar revision surgeries on my few remaining scars, I would be a reasonable looking corpse. Assuming I was ever found and that whatever was done to me wasn't too gruesome. I hoped it wouldn't be too hard on Jason. He hadn't seen me in more than three years so maybe it would be okay. He had a bit of psychological distance now. I thought all this because in those minutes I was really sure that Eric had finally come to kill me for my having walked out not just of my own life, but out of whatever the vampire marriage thing was that he had made with me. He had lost control of the situation with me and I was sure there was a price for me to pay for that fact. I continued to shake, pretty much uncontrollably. Still holding the gun in my right hand away from us with his left hand, he put his right hand at the back of my head and let it slide from the nape of my neck down to my shoulder. We probably looked as if we could be dancing I thought oddly to myself, but I audibly shivered at his touch. He leaned closer to me.

"Sookie… or should I say Sasha? _Relax_," he said in a low whisper above my ear, "There's no reason to be afraid. I came to talk to you. I would never harm you. Relax." He leaned back slightly. "Let me look at you… You're a feast for my eyes, Lover. I was just enjoying your scent while sitting there. What a gift to find you home a full hour and a half early. Look at you, so fair. I've never seen you so fair. And the green contacts and auburn hair." He chuckled. "So Irish looking. Niall would be very amused. You're much more slender than you were. Personally, I always enjoyed the curves."

I gasped. Omigod. What was he going to do to me? I shuddered to think about it. I felt his eyes on me, mostly on my face but also on my breasts or more accurately, my absolutely shuddering chest. I was trying to stay calm, while everything in my brain was screaming that I had to run. A ludicrous thought. There was no way, obviously, to run from Eric. Not even with the FBI helping you, evidently.

"Eric, what do you want? Why are you here? What do you want with me?" I managed to say, swallowing hard. I couldn't even look up to meet his eyes and I couldn't stop shaking. What would he do to me? I felt this jolt of panic thinking that even worse than killing me, he could turn me... My heartbeat accelerated even more at that thought.

"Lover, _relax_, you have absolutely no reason to be afraid" he said again, almost chuckling softly. He stroked my neck gently. "Just _relax_. Really, I'm just here to talk to you. I wanted to see you. See how you are doing for myself. To talk with you." He hesitated and then said quietly, "I actually want to talk to you about visiting home."

I snorted softly. "I am home. If you know my schedule so well then you must know I work for the FBI in counterterrorism, right? And it's not like if I go missing they won't go looking for me. A telepath is rather high on the list of important things not to lose now that torture is supposed to be off the table with the new administration."

As if ignoring what I was saying he gently took the Glock out of my hand and put it on the kitchen counter and then gathered me into his arms, and I could hear him inhaling the scent of my hair. He let out a soft sighing sound. I felt a rising warmth that just seemed to shimmer with happiness. I was puzzled. It was 'good' happiness, as opposed to the kind felt by someone who was planning to 'have fun with me' by cutting me up bit by bit, or even planning on just killing me outright. It wasn't happiness born of anger. He was genuinely happy. So Eric was happy in a good way, to see me three years after I took off leaving only a note on my refrigerator door that said "Live better"? With another shuddering breath and in complete defiance of everything my mind was screaming, I just relaxed into his embrace.

"How did you find me?" I whispered into his sternum.

I had been in the Federal Witness Protection Program, even though I wasn't really a witness for anything, for three years and three months. Basically, I had an entirely new identity and a new life. I was now officially Alexandra "Sasha" Marie Gordon, supposedly a graduate of William and Mary College, and a counterterrorism special agent based out of the FBI's Quantico office. After an initial interview in the New Orleans office, the FBI had wanted me so badly they waived the four year degree requirement, created my new identity and spent a year training me to work on screening suspected terrorists with interpreters that I helped select to work with. For anyone who had known me in my former life, my appearance was rather drastically changed. I had lost more than twenty pounds, at first from depression but then I'd kept it off with regular workouts and Krav Maga training. My hair was dyed dark auburn, cut into a shoulder length pageboy, and my eyes were green with the help of contact lenses. I was very fair. Even after the last of the scar revisions and some corrective surgery on my left breast, I still couldn't bear the idea of wearing a bikini to get a tan. It was easier to look like a convincing redhead if I was very fair anyway. And the paler skin made all the residual scars less apparent. They were finally fading. Even the revised ones. The mental and emotional scars… well they hadn't faded nearly as fast. Yeah, I'd have to say that they were still evident at times. What you feel is so much harder to revise.

"Bill found you. We knew you were with the FBI almost from the beginning. Bill and I went through your phone records and found that you had called an FBI agent in New Orleans right before you disappeared. We thought maybe they just took you at first. Then he talked to the agent you'd called and found out you left willingly to work for them. It took a while to find where you were since they kept moving you all over in Virginia. Bill was fairly sure he had located you in Falls Church two years ago this spring, but then I guess they sent you overseas somewhere because the trail went totally cold and Bill could find no trace of you. But after you came back, he found you again. I've known for more than a year that you worked at Quantico, that you lived here in Alexandria. I know a lot about your everyday life. You go to the gym three days a week at 6:30 am in the morning and go to an Irish book club on Thursday nights. You go to a Latin dance club most Tuesday and Saturday nights. Your dance partner, Sammy, is gay. On Saturday mornings you usually go to the National Gallery of Art or one of the other DC museums on the mall. You go sailing with friends in Chesapeake Bay every other Sunday. You attend a Quaker church on the other Sundays at 11 am. You live alone, date no one. You rent foreign films. You read a lot. You wear size six clothes and size seven shoes. And you specialize in interrogating people without hurting them. Soft interrogation, they call it? Really, I guess I know pretty much all the _facts_ there are to know about your life now, Lover. But I was missing seeing the real thing."

The rational part of my mind still thought that Eric was here for payback. That whatever feelings he'd had for me, they were probably superseded by anger over whatever hit to his pride losing control of me had been. I had left my entire world, all my friends, what remained of my family, everyone and literally _everything_ except my grandmother's quilt behind. Without so much as a goodbye. I hadn't even had contact with anyone supernatural, other than a few Weres at work, and my neighbor, for the past three years and three months. And those Weres? I simply pretended not to notice they were Weres. In return I had not been beaten, bitten, shot, staked, sliced with razors, raped or threatened in any way. About the most stressful thing I had to deal with was spurning the attentions of one of my colleagues at work, who seemed determined to date me, even in spite of FBI policies. He'd gotten written up for it and now he really disliked me. Yeah, that was it on the stressful front, other than my job itself and where it took me. Until I ignored my senses on the fifth floor landing telling me that I faintly smelled a vampire, a vampire I knew so well, and that sensation of a spark of life in the bond I'd tried so hard to forget. Like a fool, I'd just forged ahead, ignoring what my senses told me. And here I was. Very stressed.

"Why? Why bother? Why go to all this trouble?" I asked. I finally looked up at him in the dimly lit room and was reminded, as I met those softly glowing eyes, of everything I had ever felt about Eric. Fear mingled with happiness mingled with lust mingled with… love.

It had taken me the better part of six months after I left Louisiana to come to terms with the fact that I really loved Eric, and that my grandfather had meant that Eric, not Bill, loved me when he had commented on the vampire loving me as he departed our world for his that final time. But by then it was too late. I was a very expensive investment for the FBI. And besides, I figured that I had blown whatever I'd had with Eric by taking off as I had the day after that night he'd gone to Merlotte's to talk to me and I'd basically refused to listen to him. _I felt everything you endured_. His words had echoed in my mind for months after I left. I had felt abandoned by him that night I was tortured… and in return I had abandoned my entire life. Of course I had already been pushing Eric away from me for many months. And then, finally, I had just walked away from everyone. The damage of that night had swept through my life and the lives of everyone I had cared about. It was like a tidal wave that swept away everything in its path. Finally, after more than a year of beating myself up about it, I decided that if I had lived through being tortured by Neave and Lochlan that I shouldn't waste my time mourning what had been lost. Because then they would have won in the end. They would have destroyed me after all, even if I had lived. I still had my life. I had a good job, using my 'gift' for a good purpose, preventing suffering that, even though it may not have been what I had endured, was still most certainly torture in my eyes. Morally, I could deal with using my telepathy to get into the mind of a suspected terrorist, especially if it was going to spare them some far nastier and possibly less accurate methods to figure them out. And it had been a great move since so many of the suspects were clearly not exactly terrorists by design as much as by circumstance or association. Knowing that difference made a huge improvement in the outcome for everyone. Like not creating new terrorists because of mistreatment that could be advertised far and wide to recruit more terrorists. More importantly I hoped, eventually preventing the circumstances that led to terrorism being so prevalent. Poverty, hunger, and lack of a real education.

"Why did I find you? I wanted to know if you were happy. I wanted to see what your life was now. I wanted to assure you that it would be quite safe for you to come home. And I want you to come home."

I just stared up at him and shook my head in disbelief. "Still high-handed, I see. What makes you think that I would _want _to go back to Louisiana, Eric? Why would you think that I would give up my nice, safe life to go back there, where so many bad things happened to me?"

"Because other than your job, you have no real life here, Lover. You are totally alone. By choice, it seems. You don't even appear to have close friends other than the two people you work with, that you go sailing with sometimes. Your life may seem safe, but it really isn't if you're not even living it."

I sort of gasped at his words. "What are you implying? I'm not living my life because I'm not _dating_ anyone? Are you actually saying that to me? I guess I'd forgotten how unsurpassably arrogant you can be, Eric. Two good friends are more than many people have and it's more than enough for me."

He had shown up, tricked his way into my apartment, in order to totally piss me off? What a long way to come and a lot of trouble to go to, just to insult me. Wow. I pulled away from him and turned on the lights in the kitchen. I picked up my Glock and put the safety back on and put it in my purse. Really, I was now more pissed off than I was scared.

"So are you any good with that thing?" Eric asked again, nodding toward the gun as I put it my purse.

I fished around in my purse and tossed out my FBI badge, which also had the card certifying my Distinguished Pistol Marksmanship Gold Badge under the photo ID.

"Under the ID."

He took out the four cards and which also included the Rifle Marksmanship Silver Badge along with my federal carry permit below that.

"Impressive, Special Agent Gordon," he said with amusement looking at the Pistol Marksmanship badge. "I guess I should be glad you didn't shoot me a few times when you had the chance. You could have made a run for it. I'm really touched. How many rounds does that thing have?"

I ignored his remarks and leaned against the counter while he examined the rifle badge.

"Rifle, too, eh?"

"I'm much better with the pistol. My shoulder's never been the same after Neave cut it with a knife. The rifle recoil hurts it a lot after about five shots. I guess there's too much scarring in the tendons or something. About the same with a Benelli when I go skeet shooting."

Eric reacted ever so slightly at the mention of Neave but said nothing. The great unspoken explanation hung in the air between us just as it had three years before.

"Do interrogators need to be marksmen?" he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"No. But since maybe one of these days I'll open my door to find Dermot, I figure being a great shot might give me a slight advantage. If he doesn't zap me first, I'm hoping I can just shoot him. _Him_, I'll definitely shoot."

I turned away without waiting for a response and walked over to a corner cabinet and drew out bottles of Bombay Sapphire and Seagrams tonic water. I poured myself a generous gin and tonic. I hardly ever drank. But this drink was going to be a very generous drink. I opened the freezer and added ice to the glass and I turned back to Eric.

"I don't have any True Blood. Sorry. I don't know any vampires anymore. One of my neighbors is a Were, though. I just pretend not to notice."

"5A across the hall. His name is Ben Stephens? Pet sits the cat? Not bad for a Were."

I froze, mid-sip. "Did you even talk to my neighbors?"

"Many times. He keeps an eye on you. He'll even keep you safe in a pinch. You said Weres were good for that," he said with a wry tone.

"Please tell me you're joking, Eric." How he could have someone watching me when I was in the WPP was beyond me. People living in these buildings were screened very carefully and many worked for other agencies or the bureau. Ben actually worked for the State Department.

"I promised you I wouldn't lie to you, remember?" he said while fiddling around with my ID and the marksmanship certifications, to put them back in place. He folded the case closed and handing it back to me with a smile. "He's been on the watch for the past eleven months."

"You'd _better_ be lying. He's got federal clearance and if he's two timing on it to give out information on a federal agent, he better have a mighty interesting explanation."

As I angrily took the badge from him and I dropped it back into my purse, I noticed the skin on his right hand looked odd. It was a slightly different color than the rest of his skin. I moved closer and in an almost absurdly proprietary fashion took up his hand and turned it over and then back. Then I reached for his left hand and put them side by side and then turned both palm side up then back to look at the skin on the top of the hands. The left hand had the same smooth skin as the rest of him. I looked up at him.

"What happened to your hand? The skin is different… it's like it's kind of pinker, almost like…" I tried to think of what it reminded me of. "It's like a baby's skin, like new or something. Why?" I looked up at him and his eyes, blue as cornflowers, gazed down with a very remote look. He didn't reply and he looked as if he was ever so slightly uncomfortable.

I looked more closely at the right hand and noticed the fingernails looked a little odd. And his right wrist had a clean line around it separating his smooth light skin and the tauter, pinker skin on his hand, almost as if… I dropped his hand and pulled back with a small gasp. His hand had been cut off and had regrown. I knew this as surely as if he'd said it, as surely as if I'd pulled the information out of his head the way I did with people every day. My hand flew to my mouth and I felt queasy.

"Was it in a fight?" I asked, remembering Eric wielding his short sword.

"No." He hesitated as if thinking cautiously about something for a full minute. "Well, you have managed to catch me off guard as much as I caught you. I should have known... you were always so observant. I guess it is better to just tell you straight out rather than risk having you come home and hearing it from someone else. The hand was a penalty. The skin will be back to normal soon. Probably another few months. But the hand is fine." He moved his fingers nimbly as if to reassure me on that point.

I dropped my hand from my face. My eyes were riveted to his hand for a moment and then I looked up and met his eyes.

"A _penalty_? A penalty for _what_?" I asked in a whisper. I cringed inwardly.

"A discussion for another time, Lover. I'm glad to finally visit you. To be able to spend time talking with you. We have all missed you. I have missed you. And I'm serious when I say that I'd like to persuade you to take some of your vacation time to visit home. I promise you the highest level of security that I can possibly offer you. I would just like to spend time with you."

I looked down at his hand, which was back at his side. I was not dissuaded.

"A penalty for _what_, Eric?" There was only one person I could think of that would have the authority to penalize Eric for anything and that would have been his King, Felipe.

His jaw gnashed a bit. I glanced back up at his face. He seemed to stall in responding. I'd never seen Eric behave so oddly. He really didn't want to tell me, whatever it was. I could feel his… Resistance? Distaste? Finally,

"For disobedience," was his quiet reply. He said the words with a slight accent, which I knew from before meant he was talking about it was something that really affected him.

I swallowed hard looking down at his hand. I suddenly felt quite nauseated.

"For disobedience," I whispered, repeating his words. My mind flashed back to that night in Merlotte's and Eric saying that he had defied orders to go after me and defend me against Breandan and his people. It took a long time to regrow appendages for a vampire. And for something delicate and extensively jointed like a hand? It was more than just the length, it was the complexity of the appendage. How long would that take? Perhaps a year or two? Or three. I clapped my hand over my mouth, again.

"Omigod. I… I think I'm going to be sick…" I turned quickly and made it to my bathroom before vomiting up gin and tonic, and the remnants of my late lunch. Afterwards, I sat on the bathroom floor, hand clapped over my mouth, half heaving, half breathing heavily. Tears started slowly running down my cheeks. It couldn't be. It couldn't be. It could not be.

Eric appeared next to me, squatting down with one knee bent toward the floor. He brushed the auburn hair away from my face, and stroked the tears off my cheeks. But the tears kept flowing. I knew the truth. _His hand…_

"Really Lover, it was nothing in comparison to what it felt like knowing what was happening to you that night." As his words confirmed it, I sobbed out loud. He continued softly "Absolutely no comparison. I'd have taken it a thousand times over having lost you… Bill and I never hesitated to do what we needed to do to keep you safe. I'd do it again. So would he."

I turned to him wide-eyed. "He did this to Bill, too?" I squeaked.

Eric met my gaze and just nodded silently.

"Omigod. Omigod…"

I gripped the edge of the toilet to steady myself. I closed my eyes and just rocked, crying softly. I envisioned that night like a train wreck, where it seemed my life had derailed and the consequences just seemed to pile up one after another like cars off the tracks, long after I had stopped moving. Would the fallout of that night _ever_ end? Finally, some minutes later, I could compose myself enough to say,

"How could you even defend yourself if you would need to afterwards? And Bill, he was so injured already. Felipe didn't do anything to Pam or to Maxwell, too, did he?" I asked, looking up at him with dread.

"No. Pam and Maxwell merely followed my orders. Pam took care of me. Bill was home for sometime recovering from the silver poisoning. We sent several people to help take care of him. He has recovered very well. He found you after all. Several times."

"But why were you punished for protecting someone that Felipe had conferred protection upon? Why? What did you or Bill do wrong? It's totally unfair that he punished you both for trying to protect me. You were _supposed_ to protect me. He had decreed it. I don't understand…" I was fighting more waves of nausea.

"Bill acted of his own accord after Victor Madden directly forbad him doing it. I told Bill where to meet Niall and he did. I was told I could not act to defend you because it would be getting involved in a Fae internal problem. That it could draw vampires into their war. It was strictly a political decision on Felipe's part. He still didn't know that you were Niall Brigant's great-granddaughter but even had he known, I doubt it would have made a difference because Breandan could have won and gone after us. I was charged with inciting insurrection because I recruited Pam, Clancy and Maxwell to go against his decree. I was extremely lucky to remain Sheriff. Although I think he rather enjoyed the aspect of my obvious state of punishment. And of course, if someone did go after me and kill me, it removed the difficulty of his having something to do with it directly. In a way, it is perhaps better that you were gone, because he might have tried to claim you as part of the punishment as well, though that is seldom done in present times. But still, it was better you weren't there, all the way around."

"_Insurrection_? Insurrections go directly against leadership. You were fighting fairies. You defended your _wife_!" I felt so sick at the thought that someone had harmed him, harmed Bill, and all because of me.

I had the sense that something in his entire aspect changed subtly when I said the word 'wife', but he just responded to my comments.

"There was the matter of incapacitating Victor Madden and Sandy Sechrest in silver mesh nets. I ordered Clancy, Pam and Maxwell to help me do it. Some of the others in my service were balky and that further delayed my departure. Felipe took it all as a direct and violent challenge to his authority. Of course, Madden and Sechrest recovered. No lasting harm. But we were made example of, Bill and I. I cannot say I would have done any different had I been King. Although, perhaps… too much division of loyalties is never a good thing. There were better ways to handle the problem at its inception."

I reached out and took up his right hand and turned it over in my hands looking at it. I felt so deeply ashamed to think that he had literally been mutilated because of me, and I couldn't imagine the pain of it growing back. I knew what it felt like to regrow flesh and couldn't imagine what it would be like to regrow bone and sinew. Three years ago I hadn't understood what it had cost him to do what he _had_ done, because I was so upset about what he hadn't. The tears started flowing again. I put his hand against my chest, just crying quietly again, rocking.

"I'm so sorry Eric. I'm just…" I shuddered. "It just horrifies me. I can hardly stand the thought." I kept seeing a horrible image of it in my mind and imagining his pain. I cringed, feeling so sick at the idea. Really, I could hardly bear it.

He withdrew his hand and sat down on the floor next to me, putting his arm around me and stroking my shoulder and finally pulling my head to his lips.

"It's over, Lover. Over and in the past. It can't hurt either one of us further unless we let it."

Over or not, he'd been punished for helping me and I'd taken off, not even realizing what he'd sacrificed. About the best I could see was that unlike Claudine, Tray and Clancy, Eric wasn't dead for helping protect me. He continued to stroke my shoulder and even tried to make soothing sounds while I just cried for quite some time. After a while I said,

"I don't understand how you don't hate me and blame me. You and Bill both…" I gasped, "I just can't believe anyone could do something so despicable to you." I whispered, grinding my teeth. If I hadn't much liked him before, I now hated Felipe de Castro with every fiber of my being. But maybe part of it was that I felt so despicable myself for having left them the way I did.

"We are both fine now, Lover. Bill helped me find you, when I couldn't really get away to look for you myself. I didn't come here to make you feel bad about what happened. I came here because I wanted to see you, because I want you to come home."

Part of me just couldn't believe the savagery of the supernatural world. Although, I'd have to say that at various points in the past two years, I'd not been too impressed with human world, either. Stints questioning 'enemy combatants' in Guantánamo, Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan, Sudan, and a slew of places had not left me with an especially great feeling about humanity at times. But still, the supernatural world could be so incredibly savage. And Eric had come here to ask me to come back to that world to 'visit'? He was actually suggesting that I 'come home' to it? Could he really mean that? And… _why_?

He had come all this way to speak to me. Had evidently used all kinds of resources to find out information about me, keep tabs on me. The effort he put into finding info about me seemed nothing short of amazing if he wasn't interested in getting back at me for what had happened to him. He wanted me to come _home_? He went to all this trouble to get a _human_ to come back 'home'? _Why_?

"I don't understand why I would be important enough for you to go to all this trouble, Eric. Really. I just don't get it. And won't it just cause more trouble with Felipe if I come back? Won't it just irk him that I'm there, even to visit? I don't want to cause you or Bill or any of you any more problems. It seems like it would be better to just stay away from you both. Far away."

He stood up and pulled me to my feet. He picked up a hand towel and wet it and wiped my face. He filled my glass that I kept by the sink with water and handed it to me. I rinsed my mouth several times and then rinsed out the cup. I placed it back on the bathroom counter and looked up at him, meeting his eyes in the bathroom mirror.

"Why?" I asked again. "Why are you really here?"

"Why? You are mine. You will always be mine," he said in the voice that just resonated somewhere inside me as he looked at me intently, his eyes glowed as he looked at my reflection.

I shook my head looking at his reflection. I couldn't help chortling.

"Because I'm _yours_? That's the explanation? Did you ever see _The Princess Bride?_"

Still looking at our reflection, he silently shook his head as if puzzled by the question.

"It's a movie. No? 'Cause there's this character that keeps repeating a phrase again and again to himself and well… eventually he actually gets what he wants, but I guess the point is that the whole _mine_ thing is a little like that to me. You keep saying again and again, for years at this point, that I'm yours. Even if you can set aside the fact that something totally horrible was done to you because of me, what's the deal, Eric? We haven't seen each other in a longer time than we actually knew each other. We were friends, in a way. Sure, we really cared for each other. We had sex a few times. Really great sex, I'm more than willing to admit. We definitely had fun for a while, when you weren't having to keep me from getting killed. You were usually very nice to me. We could even say I took care of you once or twice. But that was all years ago. So now, what is the deal with the _mine_ thing? What does that mean to you? What is that supposed to mean to me at this point, after years apart? What does it translate into in 'human'? _Yours_. Your happy meal? Your friend? Your wife? Your highly useful telepathic asset? You waltz into my new life and want me to go back, even if only to visit, to a life in which all kinds of terrible things happened to me. And apparently also happened to you, _because of me_. You're here because I'm 'yours'? Well, excuse the language, but what the fuck? Surely you can get pretty much anyone you want who will be 'yours'. Why me? What do you really want Eric? Why are you _really_ here?"

I felt so guarded. Did he need a telepath? Did he want to make a statement to his minions or to Felipe that he could get me back as an asset, or that he still had control of the situation? His eyes met mine in the reflection and he smiled and the smile grew broader and broader over the course of a minute and his eyes began to sparkle merrily as he looked at me. Then he turned and practically picked me up as he hugged me.

"Well, you really haven't changed much at all, Lover," he said with a rumbling laugh. He grasped my hair at the back of my head gently and pulled my head back and kissed me, literally taking my breath away. I felt dizzy from it, as all the warm and fuzzy feelings that I remembered from three and a half years before just seemed to percolate throughout my consciousness. He paused and said,

"Brush your teeth and I'll kiss you some more. What ever you had to eat earlier had an absolutely inordinate amount of garlic in it," he said laughing. "You could knock over a horse, Lover."

"Middle Eastern food. Kind of a passion of mine now," I said softly, thinking of the garlic hummus and kibbeh that I'd had at 4 pm.

I pointedly did not reach for my toothbrush. So Eric picked it up and handed it to me. I squirmed slightly. Kissing Eric was swell but I wasn't so sure that I thought it was such a great idea. In my experience with Eric, kissing, with rare exception led to much more than kissing. I wanted answers, not kisses. What was he doing here? _Really_.

Reading my hesitation Eric said,

"Not interested? You certainly seemed interested moments ago…"

"I just don't know that I think that's such a good idea," I said quietly. It might be a very tempting idea, but it probably was not a good one. Answers on the other hand were a very good idea.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Afraid you won't be able to stop yourself, eh? Don't worry Lover. I have you, I won't let you get too carried away," he said with wink and an amused smile. He handed me the toothpaste.

"You didn't answer my question," I said firmly, looking at his reflection without smiling.

He moved to stand behind me and, reaching around me, tugged the toothbrush out of my right hand and placed it in my left hand. Then he opened the toothpaste in my right hand. He smiled mischievously at my reflection. He waited. Finally, with a sigh, he guided my right hand to put the toothpaste on the toothbrush. Then he recapped the toothpaste, put it back where it had been and switched the toothbrush back to my right hand. He rested his chin on the top of my head and placed his hands at my waist. He looked at me, waiting expectantly. He was so tall. Had I forgotten how tall he was? How blue his eyes were? Rubbing his chin on my head for a moment he locked his eyes onto my eyes in the reflection. I felt like I had been plugged into an electrical outlet. He sighed again and said,

"Why am I really here? You are mine. Mine alone. I still love you. You, yourself, pointed out that you are my wife. It is, therefore, hardly surprising that I want you back. And I can assure you, you will be safe if you come home, Sookie. I am here because I want you to come home. I want you with me. I realize that will take time. But it's what I want and why I'm here."

_Still_… I was stuck on _still _and the part that followed it.

I didn't even breathe. The silence was deafening. It felt like hours passed with us just standing there, staring into each other's eyes in reflection.

Finally, I wet my toothbrush and started brushing.


	4. Chapter 3

**III.**

**June 2009**

I had accrued 42 days of PTO in three years of working for the Bureau. After mulling it over for two weeks after Eric had visited me, I requested vacation time. When I told him I was taking 18 PTO days with only three weeks notice, Manny, my boss, was certainly not thrilled. But there weren't as many cases in the pipeline these days. I had screened over 300 US declared enemy combatants all over the globe in the past eighteen months. I had also interviewed countless suspected terrorists in the field before they had even been ruled enemy combatants. I had interviewed every single suspected terrorist in custody in the US and Canada. I had questioned war crimes suspects at The Hague, and terror suspects in Berlin, London and Madrid. Really, I had earned a vacation. And besides, my Arabic, Farsi, Dari and Pashto interpreter, Alla, would be out on maternity leave. That would leave Ahmed, who was fluent in Arabic, Turkish, Kurdish and Urdu. But he didn't do Farsi or Pashto, which were the hot areas currently because of the tense situation with the Iranian-backed Shi'a in Iraq and with the growing Taliban presence in Pakistan. The Bureau was trying to find another Farsi, Dari and Pashto interpreter but I was pretty picky about who I'd work with. Alla and Ahmed were my gold standard. Keen minds, trustworthy and careful. Alla was a very kind and dynamic person. She was also brave and fiery and great at eliciting information. I thought Ahmed was one of the brightest people I'd ever met and a extremely skillful interpreter. He was sarcastic and ironic and could see the finer shadings of almost anything. Between the two of them, especially with their differing styles in Arabic, they could lead someone to think about almost anything useful in our screenings. They were the best, and pretty much the only interpreters I wanted to work with. There was no point in trying to read some terror suspect's thoughts if you were worried about your interpreter's thoughts on top of it. It was always a challenge to shift to a different interpreter for say, Serbian. Sometimes when I questioned domestic terror suspects in English, I actually even missed Ahmed and Alla's viewpoints.

Eric left my apartment that May night shortly before midnight, because I had to be up at 6 am. We'd spent most of the time talking, with only a bit of affection mixed in. I felt awkward and reserved and wouldn't even sit on the couch with him. So we mostly just talked while he sat on the couch petting Rosie and I sat in a straight-backed chair. He seemed very interested in my job and how a telepath worked with suspects who spoke a foreign language. I explained the many months of training that I had been through with Alla and Ahmed. I asked questions and they translated for the suspect. We worked in synchrony and I read the interpreter's mind as well as the suspect's. Some of the information I got from the suspects was largely visual, at the prompting of a skilled interpreter asking questions for me. We worked in the Counterterrorism Analytical Branch, supporting Operations I and II, which involved monitoring multiple terrorist groups, their access to WMDs and trying to prevent foreign terror groups from harming US interests and acting acting in concert with within terror cells within the US. We were one of the only units of the FBI with standing clearance to work outside the US. Eric pointed out, with a broad smile, that _he_ had thought of using a telepath to interrogate people instead of torturing them at least two years before the federal government had. He came back the following evening and we talked some more. He had to go back to Louisiana later that night but stayed until almost 1 am before departing for the airport. I felt sad when he left. Even several hours after he left I felt as if I could still feel his lips on mine or his arms around me. I was dismayed to think that time really hadn't changed my feelings in the least. How could that be? And I could hardly stand to think about what had happened to him, and to Bill, because of me. I didn't know what to think about what Eric said his feelings for me were. My nice, neat world had been turned on its end.

After insisting on getting my private email address, Eric and I talked by Skype internet calling almost daily after he left Alexandria. We didn't really discuss much of our day to day lives, other than whether it had been a good day or a bad day. We mostly talked about generalities. The occasional book, a movie or two, politics. Sometimes it seemed like we talked about nothing. But I found myself looking forward to talking to him every night, or early in the morning, as the days and weeks rolled by. I'd find myself fussing over how I looked before logging into Skype. Once in a while he'd try to talk about serious things, like the blood bond, or my resistance to going back to Louisiana. He always seemed very in control whenever we talked, immediately diffusing things if I seemed to respond too negatively. As soon as I'd start to get uncomfortable discussing something, he found a way to redirect it. It was like he could still feel how I felt even after all that time apart and even though he was so far away. The room from which he spoke was dim and I didn't recognize it. There were never any interruptions at his end, even when I'd have to chat at odd times because of my traveling, rather than the usual right after sunset on Central time or 6 am Eastern time conversations. He kept up the steady but quiet pressure to come to visit. Finally at the very end of May I told him that I'd go to Louisiana to visit him in June when I got back from a work-related trip I'd be taking in a few days. I'd actually already requested the vacation days almost a week before, but was just stressing over whether I'd actually go back to Louisiana. Going to Iraq? Fine. A hard day's work, occasionally scary, but fine. Going back to Louisiana? Frightening.

I could tell that my travel for work made Eric edgy. I hadn't told him much about where I went and what I did there, but he knew I traveled a fair amount. He knew little about what I did. Mostly he just knew about how I worked with my interpreters. He said he was worried when he found out that I was going to 'somewhere in the Middle East,' (Nasiriyah, though I couldn't tell him) for a few days for work the first week of June and would be unavailable for chatting. Some of the places I'd been to 'listen' to people in the past eighteen months, as US policies began to change in response to international pressure, were _very_ scary places, and although certainly Nasiriyah was a bit up there in the tinderbox category, it was not currently that bad. Much better than say Afghanistan or Pakistan currently. But I couldn't tell him where I was going. When I got back home, Eric looked like he was extremely relieved to have me Skype him that night. I wondered what Alla's husband must have thought of his eight months pregnant wife going to Nasiriyah with Ahmed and me. Alla was simply fearless. But Mercan, her husband, wasn't fearless. He worked for the CIA so he was in a position to know what he was still fearful about in Iraq. They'd been married for four years and he wanted her to quit and I thought that after having her baby she probably would at least stop doing work outside of the US. It made me worry about finding another interpreter as wonderful as she was.

Sometimes, as much as I enjoyed traveling and as important as I felt the work to be, I wished I could just stay home and talk to domestic terror suspects. It was so much easier. The illusory 'excitement' and 'intrigue' of traveling to war zones to work had worn off about a millisecond after the first time a vehicle blew up in front of us because of a landmine. Seeing snipers shoot children pretty much sealed the deal for me. Some of the places I'd been had been very, very scary. And we were the lucky ones, since we were often flown in and out the same day when we worked some of those locations. Ahmed, Alla and I seldom talked about work among ourselves anymore. The work just left you too numb. Occasionally, in the beginning, we had soberly discussed how trapped in a dreadful cycle some of the different regions plagued by terrorism were. We had interviewed people who had done truly terrible things, sometimes without even having a clear idea of why their 'enemy' was their enemy. We had even interviewed people who were basically little more than children. After the first few very intense months, we tried to talk about other things.

Ahmed was incredibly well read. He was the one who directed me to Thistle and Shamrock. Ahmed was the kind of person who didn't need an annotated _Finnegan's Wake_. We'd watch movies on DVDs during our long flights, play board games or cards, and read or sleep. After the first year, many times it was just the three of us traveling to remote locations and being met by military personnel. Occasionally Manny or his associate head of the unit, Bruce, would go with us. But Ahmed, Alla and I were like a little clique. I knew so much about them because of how I did what I did. In spite of the fact that it could have gone the other way, they found me the very opposite of intrusive. They never had to explain things like the need for silence or for space. I was so much less educated than the two of them and yet one time when Ahmed had sensed the fact that I felt that disparity keenly he'd said quietly to me that a diamond in the rough was still, after all, really a diamond. He was never condescending, which I thought was quite surprising considering I was a high school educated small town Southerner who'd hardly traveled anywhere before. He'd been raised in Britain, gone to topnotch universities and had a PhD. Ahmed liked the fact that I was an avid reader and that I looked at different cultures with an open mind. Alla, whose father was in the diplomatic service for Iran, left Iran as a child with her family, had been raised in France and then the US. She had a dual Masters degree in Persian Languages and Literature. Although it was never openly mentioned, they knew that something terrible had happened to me. Once, early on, when Alla took me to visit a hammam in DC for fun, she had seen my scars when I was starting the scar revision surgery. She was upset but said nothing. I could tell a short time later that she had told Ahmed that _I_ had been tortured. They were both inordinately kind. They never asked. They talked about how alone I seemed and that I seldom went out anywhere. That was when Ahmed came up with the plan of teaching Alla and me how to sail. He'd seen me reading _Pride and Prejudice_ and said I would find sailing excessively diverting. He was right. I really loved it. He also started inviting me to gatherings he had in his rather chic apartment. We had been friendly before but it marked kind of a turning point in friendship. Ahmed was very protective of those he cared about. Alla was pretty fierce, too.

So here it was, the end of the second week of June and I found myself in New Orleans for the first time in four years. I still wasn't clear why Eric was living in New Orleans now. Frankly, after the whole thing with his hand, I was really afraid to ask. I worried that Felipe had taken Eric's businesses away or done some other horrible thing, although in comparison to cutting off someone's hand, it was hard to think of losing your business as being in quite the same league. But I knew Eric had loved his businesses. It all made me very afraid just thinking about it. But I was too cowardly to ask why the address he gave me was in New Orleans instead of Shreveport. He didn't offer any info, either. I was already so consumed with guilt over what Eric and Bill had gone through because of me. If there was even more to it, I didn't want to find out over the internet or phone. I wanted to be able to say I was sorry and feel horribly guilty in person. I asked no questions. It was most likely that he was just the Sheriff of Area 1 now. Felipe probably spent only part of the time in Louisiana. In spite of whatever grievance Felipe de Castro had with Eric, Felipe wasn't stupid. Eric was an extremely efficient business person. Since Felipe was really based in another state, having Eric in the most important business area would likely make sense.

I had shown up and asked for a room for two weeks in the Iberville Suites, which is at the edge of the French Quarter. It cost a small fortune. I had plenty of savings though, since other than rent and odds and ends, the only other expenses I had were taxes and insurance on my sealed up house in Bon Temps, which were all paid through the Bureau. Besides, I told myself, I'd never had a real vacation in my entire life. I planned on using the fitness center of the Iberville Suites sister hotel, the Ritz-Carlton, with which it shared the building. I got a manicure and pedicure in the Ritz-Carlton spa at 7 pm. I felt deliciously indulgent.

Eric hadn't been happy that I wouldn't stay with him, but I figured he ought to be satisfied that I was even setting foot in the state. I'd told him more than once that I had seriously bad memories of Louisiana. He'd pointed out that bad things had actually happened to me in Rhodes, Dallas, Jackson and Arkansas, not just Louisiana. He didn't know about things like getting shot at by snipers or seeing vehicles bearing people I personally knew destroyed by landmines right in front of me. That had happened to me in Najaf or in Miran Shah. I didn't look forward to going back to any of them, either. Frequently, in the month since we'd reconnected, Eric would try to convince me that I'd enjoy being home. Only then it turned out that 'home' wasn't even Shreveport and Bon Temps in his mind. It was where _he_ was in New Orleans, as I found out several days before I was leaving. I managed to bite my tongue and not say what I thought, which was that it was rather amazing that he seemed to consider _himself_ home for me. I tried to remind myself that touch of arrogance was part of Eric's 'charm'. Maybe not literally going back to Bon Temps and Shreveport would be easier. It would certainly be safer from the standpoint of not being recognized. Up to that point, I'd seriously been trying to figure out how I would make the whole thing work. But this was easier.

I thought if I heard the word 'safe' from Eric one more time that I'd throw something at my laptop camera. He seemed determined to assure me that he could keep me safe. Whereas my main concern was actually what the FBI reaction would be to my just visiting Louisiana. I had told them I wanted to leave the state and cover my tracks completely. Now I was going back? I'd had to do all sorts of pussy footing around with my boss Manny about where I was going on vacation. I didn't even tell Ahmed and Alla. Since they were well used to my evasiveness on some things, it wasn't even an issue for them. 'Visiting friends' I'd say obliquely when asked where I was going. And then I'd change the subject by asking my own questions. Of course, it legitimately turned out that even _I _wasn't sure where I was going. I flew standby from DC to New Orleans. I figured as soon as he found out I was in Louisiana, which would take him all of about a minute after my first credit card swipe, Manny would start having fits, thinking that I was going to blow my carefully crafted WPP identity and create all sorts of problems for him. While I could have used difficult to trace Visa cash cards and a disposable cell phone and call forwarding tricks to make the trip ('thinking like the Agency' as they said in the Bureau) I just didn't feel motivated to go sneaking around to that extent. I was not a sneaky person. He would have found me anyway. The FBI could find anyone if they want to. They were like vampires, but with more technological tracking skills. When Manny called me to tell me off about being in Louisiana, I planned to just take it and try to reassure him that I was carefully traveling as Sasha and had been in the mood for beignets.

When I arrived, it was still early afternoon. I thought about looking up Amelia but scrubbed the idea. I was really worried that it would be awkward and that she wouldn't even want to see me. Eric had told me that Pam was still in touch with Amelia. I figured that if Pam told Amelia I was in New Orleans that if Amelia wanted to see me, Pam would arrange it. Only a few people were going to be privy to the information that I was there, and that Sasha Gordon was really Sookie Stackhouse. It was odd walking around in the Quarter, realizing that probably, even if I had run into Amelia, in all likelihood she would not even recognize me. Octavia and her beau Louis still lived here, too. Of course, so did Sara Weiss, still an agent with the Bureau. And I was sure Sara would be keeping track of me as soon as Manny realized where I was. She'd probably track me with the GPS chip in my phone and I wouldn't even be surprised if she put me under surveillance. I was sure the Bureau was not going to be thrilled with my travel plan.

That afternoon I just sat by myself at the Café du Monde, finishing _The Great Gatsby_, eating beignets and drinking a hot café au lait with coffee and chicory and tried to steel myself for visiting Eric in the evening. He'd told me that Pam was very excited and looking forward to seeing me. I was glad Pam was still with him and looking forward to seeing her, too. But I was still very nervous about the whole visit. Sometimes I wondered what I was even doing here. Kissing someone passionately a few times and chatting for two evenings was not a natural prelude to a two weeks long visit in my book. Not even with all the time we'd spent chatting on Skype calls and all the previous history. I didn't know what to expect and thought I was half-crazy for agreeing to such a long visit. But Eric had been by turns playful, cajoling and extremely flirtatious. He was like the old Eric, the one I first knew, back in Dallas or Jackson days. He was happier and freer than I had remembered him for many months before I'd left. In some ways he acted as if the visit was a first step to my moving back to Louisiana, although he had quickly backed off when he sensed I was getting very upset with that implication. His expression had made it obvious he was not too thrilled that I was staying in a hotel, but he didn't push it after two offers of having me stay with him were firmly refused. He seemed concerned about my safety if I didn't stay with him, but I pointed out that hardly anyone knew what I looked like now and I was armed. He seemed as if he let it slide. I almost got the feeling when I told him I was flying standby I thought he wasn't even really convinced that I was going to show. I'd sent him a text message when I arrived so he'd see right away when he awakened that I had really come, just as I promised.

The sun was setting around 8 pm these days. I figured that I'd show up around 10 pm. The address Eric had given me seemed familiar. In fact, I had to say it seemed like it was in the same building that had been Sophie-Ann's old residence and court. That point was confirmed when I Google-mapped it on my phone as I sat in Café du Monde. It was definitely in the same flank of buildings, a huge chunk of real estate, but I was being directed to a different entrance from the one I knew though, on a side street, not the side nearest the French Quarter, where the crowds of tourists usually built up. Since I really wasn't up on vampire politics at all anymore, I had no idea how often Felipe was here or if tourists still gathered around hoping to see some wealthy and beautiful vampires as they had in the elegant Sophie-Anne's time. I began to nervously wonder again what Eric was doing there. Was he really the Area 1 Sheriff? A crazy thought crossed my mind that he was going to hand me over to Felipe but I managed to get that one under control. I kept thinking about what had happened to him but I just couldn't see Eric doing something like that, no matter how paranoid I allowed myself to be. He was too honorable, at least in my mind, to do something so underhanded. And his talking to me both in person and by Skype felt genuine, if I could trust that what I still felt through the bond was real. I tried to focus on trusting Eric. But still, I was cautious and I went prepared in case there were problems. Of course I had my service weapon, which really technically I was supposed to carry at all times anyway, my badge and well… I was just prepared. Of course, realistically, the likelihood of getting out of that building if they didn't want me to leave was slim. I wore black boot-cut jeans, an emerald green silk shirt and my black leather jacket. I took only minimal ID and no purse, my cell phone in my jacket pocket. It was amazing what you could conceal, though, even wearing such a simple outfit.

When I approached the door to which I'd been directed, a young vampire who looked East Indian greeted me. He was dressed in street clothes but it looked like he had a very pricey lightweight Kevlar vest on under his oxford shirt and jacket. His badge declared his name was Pradep. He was very tall, dark and thin with luminous brown eyes. From his looking me over, I got the feeling that he'd been told to expect me specifically. However, he got totally bent out of shape when he saw me put down my Glock on the table near the metal detector then pick it right back up to put it back in the shoulder holster once I had crossed through. He had evidently planned to put the gun into some sort of locker, which he had already opened, near the door. He started arguing with me and so I flashed my FBI badge and told him "Can't leave it, sorry. Besides, these would hardly even slow you down for more than a minute or two, so why the fuss?" I made sure to show him the magazine so he could see the bullets were definitely not silver. He still wasn't buying it. He made a phone call from his cell phone and got into a heated discussion with whoever was on the other end. I waited, leaning against the wall, tapping my foot. About five minutes later, Rasul showed up, looking at me cautiously. I greeted him in my best Arabic and with a broad smile.

"Masaa el kheer, Rasul." Good evening in proper Arabic. Then I switched to English. "It seems that this guy has a serious problem with my gun."

Rasul looked at me with surprise at the well-inflected Arabic. I didn't speak a lot, but what I did sounded pretty good thanks to Alla and Ahmed. He drew closer, looking at me carefully while sniffing the air. He turned his head at an angle and stared.

"Sookie? Is that really you?" he asked quietly, looking me up and down. Finally he leaned closer and looked me in the eyes and in spite, of the green contacts, with another deep inhalation he smiled broadly and seemed satisfied that it was truly me.

"Sasha, Rasul. The name is Sasha," I said firmly, nodding with a smile to him.

"Pradep was concerned that you are armed, _Sasha_." he looked at me as if he was immensely amused by the idea I was calling myself Sasha.

I took my Glock out of the shoulder holster under my jacket, and removed the magazine. I showed him my badge.

"I'm required to carry the gun. Standard bullets. Nothing that could harm anyone here permanently." I took one out and offered it to him so he could see it wasn't silver. Meanwhile, Pradep leaned over and said something to him.

"FBI? You're kidding? Wow. And you really know how to shoot that thing?" he shook his head as if very surprised.

I replaced the bullet in the magazine, the magazine in the G22 and reholstered the gun.

"Yes, I do Rasul. In fact, I know how to shoot it very, very well."

"I've always figured there's a reason why Eric finds you so enchanting. So many unexpected qualities. Shall we, _Sasha_?" he said with a chuckle.

He took my arm and led me toward the stairs after nodding to Pradep, who looked quite chagrined that I'd gotten to keep my gun. He didn't know the half of it.

Rasul smiled as we walked up the stairs to the second floor.

"I am glad to see you. I had wondered how long it would be before we would have the pleasure of your visiting us. I trust you have been well?"

"Well, yes. Thanks Rasul. I hope you have been well, too? It's a pleasure to see a familiar face. Especially here, after that November, a few years back," I said referring to the Nevada takeover in which Rasul had been the sole survivor of Sophie-Anne's entourage. "By the way," I said quietly putting my other hand on his arm for emphasis, "you have to remember to call me Sasha, now. Please."

"Certainly," he said, looking a bit puzzled but taking it right in stride. "And here we are, _Sasha_. I will look forward to seeing you later," he said nodding with a slight bow and pushing me gently through the doorway, after opening the door.

I entered Sophie-Anne's old audience chamber and was caught off-guard by first seeing Eric sitting at the same ornate table at which I remembered Sophie-Anne sitting and then being practically tackled in an embrace by Pam.

She kissed me on the cheek after hugging me and then stood back slightly to look me over, still holding onto my hand. She looked beautiful in a periwinkle shantung silk dress.

"Mmmm, Sasha, you look delicious as always. I am so pleased to see you, my friend." She smiled broadly at me.

It seemed like an almost overwhelming display of affection from Pam. The way she smiled at me, and the look in her eyes... She was really pleased to see me, just as Eric had told me. I squeezed her hand. I'd missed her.

"Pam, I'd almost think you missed me or something? Careful or you'll slip up and look gushingly sentimental about a human. It's so wonderful to see you," I said softly, squeezing her hand a bit. Then leaning toward her discreetly I asked "Um, can you sort of brief me about what the deal is here? What is going on and what is Eric actually doing here? I was afraid to ask him before and now I'm totally confused…I don't know what to do. Like protocol stuff. It all looks so much more formal than before. Is he the Sheriff of Area 1 now?"

Pam looked at me open mouthed, with frank amusement. "He really wasn't kidding then? He _really_ didn't tell you? Oh my, that is _so_ rich. He is truly devious. I am _so_ impressed." She erupted in open laughter with a huge grin and glanced in Eric's direction. In a low voice, and still smiling broadly, she said, "Well Sasha, it is a pleasure to inform you that Eric is now the King of Louisiana. Stan and Russell helped him overthrow Felipe de Castro late last year. Russell got Arkansas and Stan got Nevada. But Joseph is running Nevada because Stan said it was foolish to try to maintain multiple states separated by large geographic distances. It certainly didn't work out well for Felipe, did it? Welcome home, Sasha. As rigorously instructed, I can firmly assure you that you are very safe in Louisiana. You're married to the King of your state. Anyone laying a hand on you would have to be out-of-their-mind stupid. Oh, I can't wait to have fun with both of you. I'm going to have a wonderful time at both your expenses. I plan to tread the fine line between indiscretion and sheer annoyance," she said with a chuckle. Then she shook her head again and said, "I really have to give Eric more credit for artfulness."

As she spoke a shiver ran up my spine. Eric had staged a takeover of three states with the help of Russell Edgington and Stan Davis? My mind flew back to that night in Alexandria when Eric had said something about assuring things would be safe at home for me to visit there. Well, I guess he was in a pretty good position to assure me of that, at least in terms of being safe from vampires in Louisiana. Not that vampires had ever done me much harm. But I was guessing he meant Weres or any remaining fairies would think twice about going after me, too.

"When did you say all this happened, Pam?" I asked in a low voice.

"Oh, about six months ago. They'd been planning it for almost a year, though. After Victor Madden had Maxwell brined for something totally inconsequential, Eric was totally done with both Victor and Felipe. First the problems with you, then the penalties for him and for Bill, then Maxwell. Maxwell was the absolute last straw because he hadn't really done anything. He's Sheriff in Area 5 now but I think his skin is permanently damaged. Anyway, it was quite an interesting takeover. It was a real, ehem, bloodbath. Even that stupid tiger ex of yours fought with them because Eric and Stan guaranteed him that Stan would release him from service after taking over Nevada and would leave his family alone. But the tiger still can't set foot in our state without permission. Eric _really _enjoyed killing Victor Madden. It took several nights. It's really such a shame you weren't… although no, perhaps not. You never did seem to enjoy that sort of thing much, did you? Oh well. I believe Bill will be arriving tomorrow or the next day. He is really looking forward to seeing you. He is the lead investigator for the state of Louisiana now. He handles much of the security for the state, too. He has recovered fairly well from when you last saw him, although he was sick from silver poisoning for almost six months." She hesitated then for a moment and then said, "Eric said you were very upset about what happened to them. When you found out, I mean, about what happened to them?"

My eyes were still fixed on Eric, who was talking with several people. He was dressed in a charcoal gray suit, with a robin's egg blue shirt and a sharp looking tie. His hair was neatly tied back. He really looked like he belonged in GQ in his beautifully cut suit. Two of those standing and talking to him were vampires and the other was a Were. They were discussing business it seemed. The Were looked very nervous and had an agitated thought signature. He was trying to look calm and professional, though. He wanted to make a good impression. He was the only person in the entire room that I could read at all. A tall, blond male vampire standing next to Eric, shifted papers on the table. He was obviously some sort of an assistant. Eric, after a brief glance my way and a faint smile, started shifting through the documents, reading them and then signing things. My heart felt warm when he smiled that ever so slight smile. He was happy.

Pam shifted restlessly.

"Sookie? I mean Sasha… Do I really have to call you Sasha?" she said in a whisper.

I glanced back at Pam. "Yes, you really do. When we're alone you can call me which ever you want but if we're around other people, I have to keep up the identity thing," I said in a low voice. "That was the whole purpose of going to all the trouble. To pull away from this world, Pam. Right now I'm just Special Agent Sasha Gordon, okay? And yes, I was very upset. How could I _not_ be upset? They tried to protect me, providing protection Felipe said he had conferred on me, and they were punished for it in an absolutely gruesome fashion. How could I not be upset with that? It still makes me sick just to think about it." Really.

"Some day Sook… Sasha, I will tell you about that night when the fairies had you. I… really don't think you could imagine how Eric was that night. But then you were…" She looked over at me and suddenly let go of my hand and brushed the hair away from my face. "I am so sorry, my friend. I am so sorry for what happened to you and that it took so long to help you. I was so sorry that you left before I could see you, talk to you and express my sympathy for what happened to you. But perhaps it was better that you were not here in the weeks that followed. I think it would have been just as bad on you, albeit in a different way. I don't know that Bill and Eric understood how bad it would have been for you. I was sad that you left us. But perhaps it was better you did. Three years is only a short time to us. Perhaps it seems a lifetime to you. We three never stopped thinking about you, Sasha. We never did. Bill and Eric had their revenge for what was done to them. Rich revenge. But some of it was also revenge for what happened to you because Eric couldn't get to you fast enough. And then for Maxwell. In any case, things are much better now. And now I am Eric's second, which has been quite pleasant. Everyone has to put up with my sarcasm and irony. Few are in a position to complain. It is all immense fun." She smiled at me.

This was about the warmest and most amiable that Pam had ever been with me. She must have seriously pitied me for what had happened to me to be so warm, I thought to myself. Well, no matter what the eventual outcome (another takeover) was, I couldn't stand the thought of what had been done to Eric and Bill, all because of me, for another minute. It was literally still making me nauseated whenever I thought about it. My eyes started to tear up. I let out a tiny gasp and changed the subject.

"Eric says that you are still in contact with Amelia. How is she?" my voice sounded so uneven. Eric glanced over at us as if suddenly sensing I was upset.

Pam took up my hand again. I knew she saw I was about to cry. She held my hand then in both of hers and stroked it soothingly.

"She is doing alright," she said briskly. "She is dating someone. He's some sort of witch or sorcerer person. I haven't met him yet. I haven't talked to her in several weeks. I wasn't sure whether or not you would wish to see her. I was not even sure you would really come since you had no advance reservatons. She actually mentions you often. I think she knows that we knew where you were. She would no doubt like to see you, to see that you are really okay. Everyone was very shocked when you disappeared. She felt very bad about having left you alone in Bon Temps. At first everyone was worried that that stupid half-fairy uncle of yours had gotten you. Even your brother was. Especially since your car was still there. Eric was quite upset. He actually broke things, which for Eric is rather unusual. He is not usually inclined to such displays of emotion. They found that note on your refrigerator door that said 'Live Better' but we weren't sure what it meant. Although Eric was quite odd about it. It had a fresh scent on it, according to the shifter, when he got into your house. Eric said the bond between you was so worn down. He couldn't sense exactly where you had gone, but knew it was not close. A day later Bill got your phone company records. They were worried that the FBI might have stolen you. Bill came down here and glamoured that FBI agent you'd called into telling him what she had done, where you had gone. Eric charged Bill with finding you. It was their secret project- to find you. Of course, when that Dermot person showed up skulking around, they still killed him just as if he'd been responsible for your disappearance."

I pulled back in shock. "Wait a minute. _What?_ Who killed Dermot?" I said trying really hard not to raise my voice.

Pam winced ever so slightly as if realizing that she'd potentially made a misstep in her enthusiasm for talking to me. She glanced quickly across the room at Eric who was signing things and talking to several additional people now. I glanced casually around the room while waiting for Pam to explain and noticed that relatively few people in the room were armed. One tall dark vampire had a sword, which he leaned on slightly. There was another tall blond vampire, not the assistant, who stood at the back of the room, not far from Pam and me. He had no apparent weapons but he was even bigger than Eric and frankly reminded me of the Berts in terms of the sense of an overwheliming presence. He looked much sharper however. As soon as my glance fell on him, within an instant, he regarded me coolly, as if assessing something about me. Then he quickly looked back in Eric's direction, watchfully. So these two guys were it for the protection? Awfully trusting, I thought. I noticed the nice long sword resting against the empty chair at Eric's right. I looked at him and wondered if he was further armed. He'd always made it sound like being a King was so dangerous, as if you were a target. His security seemed really light from my perspective. Sophie-Anne always had far more security in evidence. I wondered if there was security I just couldn't see or if they were relying on the security at their entrance. If the front entrance security was like the side entrance security, I was extremely unimpressed.

Pam continued,

"Didn't Eric tell you _anything_ when he saw you in Virginia? And you two talk virtually every night? Sometimes even twice in a night? My goodness, whatever do the two of you talk about? Is it only 'phone sex'? He made it sound like you actually discussed things. Eric and Bill killed Dermot two years ago. I think Eric had promised Niall that he would kill him if they found him. Niall was worried for your welfare. It wasn't some gruesome, prolonged thing in case you're worried. They decided you'd get upset if they did anything really gross, although they really wanted to, let me tell you. But it was quick. They didn't even 'enjoy' him if you take my meaning and he was big enough to have been quite a meal. You know, they don't go to dust when they're only half fairy…"

I tuned her out a bit and glanced back over at Eric, who was on what looked to be the last stack of papers on his desk. Yes, I _was_ rather amazed at all the stuff that Eric hadn't told me. We'd talked for at least ten and often as long as twenty minutes a day, almost every day, for more than a month. Of course, I could compare notes and think of all the stuff I didn't tell _him_… Islamabad, Nasiriyah, that I was totally scared about coming here and risking pulverizing my heart all over again and hadn't told him for more than a week that I had already requested the vacation time or that I had even considered going to Europe instead... Still, I'd specifically told him that one of the reasons that I'd gotten into the marksmanship was to better defend myself _against_ _Dermot_, if necessary. And he'd said nothing about the fact that he and Bill had killed him two whole years ago? Then, thinking about it all, I realized that knowing Eric, he was likely so focused on my coming to Louisiana that he thought if he told me that, by the way, he was King of Louisiana now and he'd killed my great-uncle perhaps I might get upset about either of those two things and just not come. I remembered his clearly telling me that night three and a half years ago in Bon Temps that he would not lie to me but he might not always tell me everything. Back then I would have been outraged. Three years with the FBI made it seem like a standard operating procedure in the real world, however. I never knew all the specifics of what I was dealing with and frequently had to glean what was really going on from people on site. Basically, he just hadn't told me anything that he thought would deter me from coming. Well, I decided, I didn't care that Eric hadn't told me. It didn't matter. Caring that he hadn't wouldn't change anything anyway. It was irrelevant to the facts. The fact was, now I didn't have to worry about Dermot coming after me anymore and I should be _grateful_. And if Eric wanted to be King of Louisiana, it was his business and I was sure he'd do a smashing job of it because he'd always been a good boss from what I knew from vampires who'd worked for him. The stuff I hadn't been told was all irrelevant detail. The only things that really mattered were that we were _all_ safe. Especially them, since I had caused a couple of them considerable harm.

"Sook… _Sasha_. You know, I'm not having an easy time with you being a Sasha. You don't look Russian. Although you look… quite fetching as a redhead." She touched my cheek gently and looked into my eyes. I smiled at her, puzzled at her being so affectionate. "Yes, really it quite suits you. You're thinner but you still have curves in all the best places," she said in a sultry voice while her eyes roved up and down over me and she leaned closer. She still had her hand on my cheek.

Eric cleared his throat very loudly and Pam broke into the most mischievous smile.

"Forgive me, my friend. I'm afraid I have rather overstepped." She immediately lowered her hand but continued to smile like the Cheshire Cat, displaying a lovely set of fangs.

She was baiting Eric by flirting with me? It was too funny. I glanced over at Eric and he kind of glowered a bit at what he was signing and appeared to be pressing that pen into the paper as if he was signing into the wood below.

"Pam, you just _never_ change," I said breaking into laughter. At least Pam had gotten me to laugh and had jostled me out of my somber mood. "You're shameless."

"It's too much fun for me to _want_ to change," Pam said in a low voice, still grinning. "I'm going to have a great deal of fun with the two of you. I'm going to be very bad. I expect your unqualified support."

I ignored her on that point.

"So you were telling me about Amelia…"

"Yes, Amelia. She still mentions you. Do you wish to see her?"

"If you think it wouldn't upset her, yes, I would love to see her."

"Pam," Eric's voice called sharply. She moved quickly over to where Eric was sitting, bowed slightly and they conferred for a few minutes. The guests were gone. He handed Pam several documents. I noticed how odd it was that the remaining vampires around him appeared to call him by his first name, rather than Master or Your Majesty. They still bowed and scraped but it didn't have the feel of being servile. The Were had called him Mr. Northman. It was all respectful, but not slavishly so.

Finally Pam called out, "Sasha," and beckoned to me.

I walked over to the table and nodded politely to Eric, but couldn't quite contain my amusement from leaking into my expression. He was still cross with Pam over the flirtation bit, I could tell. The vampire assistant standing behind Eric looked at me in frank disapproval because of my irreverent smile. I guess I was supposed to look considerably more awed? I was having a hard time with capturing the right manner.

"Stefan," Eric said, "this is Sasha Gordon. Please make sure everyone knows that she is my personal guest." This was apparently some sort of heavily loaded, coded directive.

Stefan murmured his understanding. He regarded me with cool appraisal. He looked Scandinavian, just like Eric. He could almost be a sibling because of the similarity in looks. He wasn't quite as tall as Eric though, and his eyes were cold ice blue and seemed, I thought, to lack Eric's sparkling humor. Maybe it was just I got the feeling from his frosty manner that he didn't quite approve of me, though.

Eric rose, picked up his sword and walked around his desk. Putting his hand on my shoulder, he led me toward another door in the room. I glanced back at Pam and she smiled at me.

After we exited the audience room, Eric took up my hand and led me through some sort of sitting room filled with sofas, and a huge flat screen TV, through a narrow corridor and then down a long hall. We passed Rasul, who greeted me cordially in Arabic to which I replied in Arabic, earning an odd look at the two of us from Eric. Finally, we arrived at the doorway of a spacious office, and Eric closed and locked the door and hung the sword up on the wall, took of his dark charcoal gray jacket, and after taking a rather nasty looking stake out of his jacket's inside pocket, hung the jacket on a coatrack and tossed the stake onto his desk. Then he spun around, looked at me smiling and swept me into his arms and kissed me on the lips.

"Forgive the cool greeting, Lover. Business. And it's safer not to draw too much attention to you in front of strangers." He drew me to the long, deep couch along one wall and I sat down near him. He smiled, looking satifisfied, but was silent. He had teased me repeatedly by Skype that he expected me to be brave enough to sit next to him again or that it would be a very boring two weeks.

I looked down at my hand in his. I actually still felt so nervous. Weeks of talking still wasn't the same as being alone with him again. I wondered what he thought about how nervous I was because of course he was feeling it. He seemed completely unconcerned.

Actually, he seemed to be waiting for something but I couldn't figure out what it was. Congratulations on staking, ripping and probably slicing Felipe and his minions to shreds? Nice digs? Since I didn't know what to say, I started with,

"Rasul knew right away it was me," I said with a smile.

Eric looked a bit caught off-guard by the statement but replied, "When Pradep called Stefan from downstairs, I sent Rasul down telling him I had a guest who he would very much enjoy seeing. Rasul always had a great nose and remember he tracked you before. He could tell in an instant, I'm sure. Well, I have to say that you certainly seem to be taking everything very much in stride Lover..." he said with a curious look on his face.

"You mean about your takeover thing, yeah. It was a surprise. But I was actually more stuck on the Dermot thing, really. Pam told me that you and Bill killed Dermot two years ago? That one really kind of got me. Especially since I told you I was still worried about his finding me and maybe wanting some revenge or something."

He seemed to want to _appear_ unperturbed that I'd found out. I had the feeling he wasn't too pleased, though.

"Your grandfather wanted me to get rid of him, in case Dermot came looking for you or Jason. Since Claude went back, there was no one he trusted to protect you from Dermot. Other than me, of course. And frankly, I'm not too sure he'd have trusted Claude to do it even if Claude had stayed."

"You saw Niall before he left and sealed away Faery?" Now that was another surprise.

Eric was careful as he replied. "Yes, we spoke." There were clearly _other _things he was not prepared to tell me at present.

"About Dermot or about other things, too."

"We spoke about Dermot, and about you and Jason."

"What about Jason and me?"

"Just general things, his concerns for your welfare and such."

"What concerns?"

"We will talk about it all later. On Tuesday. Mr. Cataliades will be coming to see you about some business matters."

"What business matters?"

"It relates to your grandfather's businesses. Mr. Cataliades will explain it all to you on Tuesday, Lover. I figured that it was better to tell you, together with Bill, about Dermot. I'm sorry if you were upset to find out from Pam. You have little family, so I didn't exactly relish the idea of being the one telling you that we'd gotten rid of some more of it even if I knew you didn't like Dermot. Bill on the other hand will tell you that he enjoyed it as much as he did getting rid of that other uncle of yours. I had not known about that… other uncle." From the way he said it, clearly he had learned not just that Bill had killed Uncle Bartlett but _why_ Bill had killed Uncle Bartlett. It looked as if he wholeheartedly approved, too. Since I said nothing, he didn't comment further on Uncle Bartlett, for which I was grateful.

I didn't say anything and there was a moment of awkward silence.

He reached over and touched my face gently. "I've really missed you, Lover."

He slid closer to me on the couch and bent his head to kiss me, sliding his arm under my jacket and around the back of my waist. He pulled me closer to him and then chuckling, he jiggled my gun in its holster. It did make things a little awkward. I laughed and took it out of the holster and put it on the coffee table in front of the couch. Actually, I felt I really had better come clean on a few other things. Especially since I was getting uncomfortable with the idea of being on the couch and having those things become more apparent on their own.

"Eric, you know," I said, leaning away slightly, "I really think you need better security for coming into the building. At least at that side entrance."

"What do you mean?" he said puzzled, pulling back a bit. "Pradep said you had the gun, right?"

"Well, yeah, he stopped me because of the Glock but of course I took it off before going through the metal detector. But the problem is he didn't catch all the other stuff."

He was very still as he looked at me with narrowed eyes. "What other stuff?"

I proceeded to show him my M4 ceramic pistol, which I had strapped to my left calf right above the ankle and the two shielded aluminum clips, which had made it past the metal detector without a hitch. The two clips had silver bullets and the metal hadn't registered them because metal detectors generally don't register aluminum or silver, they just register iron and ferromagnetic metals like steel. I hardly ever used this gun before other than twice at a range but it was useful to have a weapon that could get around metal detectors. Eric looked rather taken aback at the little detail of the silver bullets and aluminum not triggering the metal detectors. But when I pulled the silver knife and the wooden knife saturated with iron sulfide salts from my right calf, he was even more impressed, though in the end, he frowned.

"Point taken on the security issue. I guess a good question would be why you felt you needed to be so well armed to come to visit me. I'm not sure I'll like the answer."

"I have to carry my gun. That's a given. For the rest of the stuff, well, I didn't know what was going on. 'Be prepared' seems to be a pretty good philosophy at this point in my life after everything that's happened to me, Eric." I shrugged my shoulders.

He looked at me intently and was very still.

"Sookie, do you honestly still think I'm going to hurt you?"

"In what sense?" I countered.

"In the sense that I'm going to go after you and exact some kind of revenge for your having taken off after I protected you and paid a heavy price for it? In the sense that I've already told you quite clearly I'm _not_ going after you, since I'm interested in going after you in an entirely different fashion, Lover." He said that last part with something of a leer.

"Yeah. That _last_ one has me really worried" I said rolling my eyes. "Eric, I just didn't know what I was walking into here and damned if I'm ever going to be caught flat-footed in the supe world again, unable to defend myself to the best of my ability. No one is ever gonna get a hold of me again the way Neave and Lochlan did if I can possibly help it. No human, fairy, vampire, Were, no anything or anyone."

He looked so very pained whenever I said Neave and Lochlan's names. He looked about the way I felt whenever anyone mentioned his hand.

"Fine," was his only comment. "Let me assure you again that while you're here, you're going to be safe on _my_ watch."

Safe. His new favorite word to use with me.

Eric slid closer again and put his arm around me again. I felt edgy and awkward. I made nervous conversation.

"Is Pam still into jazz as much as she was? I saw in my hotel that Nnenna Freelon is at the Preservation and I was thinking of going to see her."

"I like jazz, too. We could all go if you wish. I'll have Stefan make the arrangements."

"Okay, but I'd be pretending to be with Pam."

He leaned back slightly. He looked displeased at _that_ idea. "And the reason for that is?"

"The taxpayer money invested in my new identity and keeping me in the Witness Protection Program? It's a pretty good reason. If I hang out with you all the time, especially in public, it's going to be more likely someone might figure me out, right? I need to be able to creep back to my world and just disappear again, Eric. The FBI is not going to be thrilled I'm here in Louisiana and even less so if I start hanging out in a very public way that's going to get me recognized. Frankly, I'm thinking I've got all of about another minute before my boss calls me after figuring out that not only am I in New Orleans but that I'm presently in a vampire compound. They know I wanted to get away from the supernatural world and they're not going to be happy to see me go for a dip in it for old time's sake, so to speak."

"They will track you? You have a GPS chip in your phone? Why did you even bring it with you, then? What if you don't answer? Perhaps they would think the phone was lost?" Eric said with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I have to be reachable. It's part of my job requirement. It's a special kind of Blackberry with worldwide service. It's not the kind of thing you lose and don't report right away. And considering the fact that I think it would be extremely poor taste on my part to have the FBI raid your compound and start shooting at people with silver bullets, yeah, I'm really thinking I'll answer and just tell him I'm fine and take his wrath. They seem to have a lot of interest in keeping their only telepath nice and safe. _That's_ why I flew standby instead of booking ahead of time. So I wouldn't have to listen to the wrath ahead of time and chance they'd cook up an 'emergency' I'd be needed for. But anyway, if I go out with any of you, I'm with Pam, okay?"

"Well, I do not like the idea," he said looking at me coolly.

"Is this more of the _mine_ stuff?" I said rolling my eyes.

"No, it's more of the stuff that messing with someone who is mine has very different implications from messing with someone who is Pam's. If we go out socially, you will be with me."

"Has the situation in Preservation Hall deteriorated to the extent that I should be worried about people messing with me? Is there sniper fire or anything? Vampires in a rush of bloodlust go after people right there in the club? Is it so dangerous to listen to jazz in New Orleans these days? I didn't think to bring much of my other gear beyond what you see on the table. I only have three handguns and the knives with me. I hope that's going to be enough? To think I thought it was overkill and paranoia to have brought this stuff. I could always apply for a loan of additional weapons from the Armory if you think it's too risky to just go with the Pam plan."

He looked at me stonily and ignored the jibe. He shifted his arm away from me and leaned forward examining my stash.

"Wooden knives are standard gear for the FBI?" he said in an ironic tone as he picked up the wooden blade and examined it.

"Well… yes actually. You can take them on regular airline carriers without a lot of fuss. There's kind of a mandate that if you fly and there are any 'problems' that you're supposed to neutralize any threats you can to civilians. They can actually be surprisingly nasty even against humans. See, it's serrated to make it harder to pull out. And of course after declaring to the TSA I get to have my Glock. But all this stuff" I said gesturing to the pile on the table, "is nothing in terms of weapons against supes. My friend Alla's husband works at the Agency. You know, the CIA? The stuff they have is just incredible. All kinds of stuff for fighting anything you can think of. And you know, I really think they must know about the fairies, even though most probably left with Niall. They have all this iron and lemon-based stuff. That's where I got the idea of that knife soaked with iron sulfide salts. It makes it multipurpose against vampires and fairies. I had to leach some of the salt out of the blade though, because I thought it would trigger the metal detector. Guess I got it about right... The stuff the CIA has for fighting vampires is seriously scary. Aerosolized silver colloids and stuff like that. It's supposed to be really lethal."

"Should you even be telling me that?" Eric said with a chortle. "Are you going to have to 'kill' me for telling me classified secrets? You're always so secretive about your work." He flashed an amused smile.

"That's not my work stuff. _I_ don't work for the Agency. I work for the Bureau. We don't have stuff like that. We have _other_ stuff. But I can tell you about Agency stuff. It's not _our_ stuff. A good question is whether Mercan should be telling _me_ information like that." I said with a laugh. "After all, there's a long and entrenched history of the Agency not telling the Bureau anything and vice versa. Even in spite of all of the mandates for cooperation post 9/11. Anyway, somehow I think you wouldn't be surprised that they have some nasty stuff to use against vampires. Something tells me you guys might have figured that."

We chatted on for another twenty minutes about how much the FBI and other government agencies might really know about vampires. I told him that really I didn't know for sure, since I'd tried to diligently avoid anything supernatural for the past three years. Then my phone vibrated with a call. I looked at my watch. It was 12 am, exactly midnight and an hour later back in Virginia. I was sure it was the moment of truth, since virtually everyone knew that I was away on vacation and few people, other than maybe Ahmed, would think of calling me that late. I took out my Blackberry and saw that it was indeed Manny. I nodded to Eric with a grimace, and answered. Eric shifted ever so slightly closer no doubt so he could hear whatever Manny said with those bat ears of his.

"Manny? You're up late. What's up? Everything okay?" I said, trying to sound chipper and vacation-y.

"Sasha, are you in New Orleans?"

"Yes, I'm with my phone, which is definitely in New Orleans. Any problems?"

"Are you in that vampire compound there, for the past two hours?"

"Um, well actually, yes. I'm on vacation, though. Do you call Terry and ask him what he's doing in Bangkok or am I the only special one? What I'm doing is a lot less questionable than the stuff Terry does, I assure you. I'm just talking."

"Let's stick to you, Sasha. Seriously, _what_ are you doing there? Why, of all places, did you choose to go to New Orleans?"

I sighed. I had planned to tell him about longings for beignets, jazz and coffee with chicory. But I didn't have the heart to play hardball. Manny was a nice man and he'd never tried to push me to do anything with my telepathy that I thought I shouldn't do. He'd had me pulled from any situation that seemed very likely to go south after a very scary experience in Khartoum more than a year before. He'd treated me with kid gloves and kindness from the get-go. As people go, Manny was a _very _decent human being and a very nice boss. He didn't deserve anything less than the truth.

"Manny, I'm really fine. I'm just visiting. If you get worried, I'll be happy to meet up with Sara Weiss and she can tell you I'm fine, okay? Everything is hunky-dory.

"We pulled you out of there because you wanted to get away from these people, Sasha. _Who_ are you visiting?"

I leaned my face into my hand and rubbed my forehead. If there was any chance I'd be coming back to visit Eric again then they'd know sooner or later that there was more to the situation than a simple vacation. Maybe sooner was better. It was definitely way better on my conscience. There was only one really convincing reason I could come up with for making such a visit, though. At least in terms of justifying things. And I wasn't above using it to try to smooth things over.

"Manny, I'm going to tell you the truth. Something that you and the Bureau didn't know. I'm kind of… married. To a vampire."

I felt a rush of surprise and pleasure from Eric. He had seemed rather pleased in the past month whenever I made any reference to the marriage thing. Here I was acknowledging it to my boss. But I hope he understood that I was using it as a way to justify my presence here. It was a way to parlay my stay in New Orleans into something more reasonable in Manny's eyes. I had to say that I really just didn't get Eric's thoughts on the marriage thing. He'd gotten very ruffled a week before when I called it a marriage of convenience, as in conveniently keeping me out of Felipe's clutches. The look on Eric's face at present, in combination with what I was feeling from him, kind of caught me off-guard, however.

The other side of the line on the other hand was, excuse the expression, dead quiet. Finally Manny said,

"You've got to be kidding me, Sasha. And you went _back_ to him? Is he the bastard that did that shit to you? _You went back to him_? What the hell are you thinking? I want you out of there!" He sounded paternalistic, angry and incredulous. Manny really had always been pretty protective of me and knew that I had been a victim of something horrible. In fact, he was a large part of the reason why the majority of my remaining scars were now barely visible.

I let out a gasp, "_No_ Manny_!_ He is _not_ the one that did that to me… Jesus Christ!" Eric stiffened and I felt rising anger on his part as he looked away. It amazed me that Manny's automatic assumption was that a _vampire_ had harmed me. Years after the whole vampire revelation thing and prejudice was still alive and kicking. I put my hand on Eric's arm and shook my head, continuing to Manny, "No, he tried to… Look, what happened to me was not his fault. He actually took care of me afterwards, as much as I'd let him. What happened to me had absolutely nothing to do with him. I'm really safe here. I promise you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you any of this before. I just barely even know what to say about any of it, even to myself. I'd been through so much in a short time and I did want to leave when I left. I wasn't trying to be duplicitous. What happened to me was a nightmare, Manny, and I really can't tell you any more than that. I wanted to leave everything and everyone, and so I did. But I miss him. So I came to visit him. I'm being very careful and I'm here as Sasha. Few people would recognize me and of those few who would, they will keep me safe." It was all the truth.

"What's his name? What's this husband's name, Sasha?"

I looked up at Eric. I didn't know whether it was okay to tell. He just nodded, though he still looked more than a bit offended at Manny's suggestion that he had been the one who did what had been done to me.

"You need to understand this is like a vampire thing, Manny. If you're going to go looking for a marriage license in a Louisiana Clerk's Office, you're not going to find one. It's not a marriage sanctioned by Louisiana state law." I bit my lip a bit and then offered quietly, "Eric Northman."

Manny was silent a moment on the other line, except for the sound of his keyboard clacking and then said,

"Geez, Sasha. He's _1100_ years old? He lives in Shreveport? Are you both just visiting in New Orleans? How can he keep you so safe if it isn't even his home turf? Aren't they very territorial?"

Well, this definitely confirmed that the FBI had Bill's database. And that Manny knew much more about vampires than I would have thought…

"I think your database is out of date. You have to get regular updates online. He lives in New Orleans now. And besides, in terms of vampire stuff, no one is allowed to touch me on like pain of final death or something because of the marriage thing. I really don't think anything will happen to me here, Manny. I really am safe. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before but we both know how it would have gone over. My vacation, my plans, my private life."

I could hear Manny typing more on his computer. And then he let out a soft 'whoa'.

"So he's now what the vampires call a King? King of the state of Louisiana? He lives in that compound, then?"

"Yes, Manny. So, um, is there like a classified file on him or something? How did you get that little tidbit of info? Are there files on high profile vampires?"

"You have heard nothing from me on that topic." _Omigod,_ I thought... The Bureau has classified files on vampires… "And are you _sure_ you're safe there, Sasha?" He meant we had fail-safe terms for communicating that I was definitely not safe at a location and that I had to be extracted asap.

"I'm sure I'm safe, Manny. Really. If you want, have Sara Weiss meet me tomorrow for coffee. I have the cell on. You can track me. What me to send you a picture? I'm really fine. I promise you."

"When you get back, we'll have to have a talk about this. You realize that, right, Sasha? Chuck is not going to be happy with this. Not at _all_."

I quavered internally. Chuck was seldom happy with anything where I was concerned. This would be one more strike. In spite of scary moments from time to time, I'd have to say that this was, without question, a pretty good job if you were going to work as a telepath. What if Chuck didn't like this whole vampire business? Because I was pretty sure he wouldn't like it. For the first time I wondered if the FBI wasn't all that different from vampires like Felipe or Andre? Or even, glancing over at the one next to me, like Eric? The FBI clearly thought I was _theirs_. Suddenly, I felt a moment of genuine panic. It was one of those moments when I realized that I was still an asset. I'd just thrown in with a different sort of master.

"Yes, sir. I do."

After a brief goodbye, I ended the call. Eric wrapped me in his arms. Either he had stopped listening, or else he didn't get the subtext of what Manny was really saying. Eric was happy. I was just plain worried.


	5. Chapter 4

**IV.**

After a couple of minutes of noticing that I was still not all relaxed and happy, Eric let go.

"You're upset," he said quietly.

"MmmmHmmm," I said, just nodding. Well, that was a bit of an understatement.

I was lost in thought. Could they fire me for 'consorting' with vampires? That would just be unfair, I thought to myself. The Bureau was not always fair, however, as I'd seen first hand. Sometimes in order to be secure you _had_ to be unfair. Maybe all I had to do was prove I couldn't be glamoured for information. Because I could already see that would be Chuck's big issue here. Vampires glamoured humans and a glamoured FBI agent was a serious security risk. Look at what a glamoured Sara Weiss had done? She'd let Bill know that I'd gone to work for the FBI willingly and put him on the fast track to finding me in Virginia. And the information that I was privy to was much more on the order of national security than anything Sara Weiss could have given out. Surely some vampire somewhere worked for the FBI, CIA or NSA and they could get he or she to try to glamour me? There were several Weres I'd met at the Bureau. I had even heard a rumor that the NSA had a telepath. Didn't one of the agencies have vampires?

But firing me was the least of my concerns. Would the Bureau do _anything_ to pull me away from Eric? _Could they try to go after Eric?_ Manny had basically confirmed they had an entire active file on him. My mind reeled at that thought. It was probably because of his business activities or because of tracking vampire politics. Maybe both. Well, the days for really dark intrigue were thankfully over under new administration, but I still wasn't feeling resoundingly confident about the situation that I'd gotten myself, _and Eric_, into. Even two years ago it would have been wholly possible that they would have gone after Eric just for shakes. The IRS, DHS/Immigration. You name it. Well, if the Bureau didn't like it, one option would be to simply can me and try more diligently to find Barry. But they had a huge investment in me, and in my team. _What if they went after Eric?_ I thought again to myself. Maybe I hadn't thought this out clearly enough. Had I been hopelessly naïve? My heart raced. I was worried about coming here for how it could impact Eric and Bill under the assumption that Felipe de Castro was still undead alive and could cause problems. It hadn't crossed my mind that the FBI could cause Eric problems. Maybe I never should have told Manny about the relationship. I was totally confused about whether I might have made things worse. I trusted Manny, though. Maybe he wouldn't tell Chuck that little detail if it wasn't a good idea.

"What is wrong?" he asked quietly, stroking my forearm.

I tried to snap my attention back to present reality.

"I'm just getting the idea that I was so worried about coming back here from the supe end that I didn't think it through very clearly from the FBI end. I don't want to lose my job. I like my job. I really do. I don't want to be fired or to be 'asked' to quit," I said, gesturing those quotations. I didn't exactly want to give voice to the thought that they could do anything to harm Eric in order to keep me. "Plus, I guess I worry about what they could do to try to secure my services by…"

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "By what?"

"I get worried that they could go after you to make you leave me alone. I guess I was really in denial about how badly this all might be taken. I don't think they would do something like that, but really… I don't know. It's more than just my boss's take on something like this. I guess they'd get worried that I could be glamoured for information. I'm going to have to think of how to prove I'm not a security risk."

I looked up at Eric, who was now looking rather distant. Distant, except for the clenched jaw part and the sense that he was thinking my leaving my job wasn't at all bad in his eyes. I could just quit and move back home as far as he was concerned. For a second I really thought I could almost read that from him, which always shook me up when it happened. Could he actually think I'd just quit my job and move back here? Even if the FBI would _let _me do that, could he actually think I _would_ do that?

"Eric, please tell me that you don't think that I'm just going quit doing whatever and come back to Louisiana and just sit around all day waiting for you to wake up and entertain me and then dine on me. That is so totally _never_ going to happen. How could anyone knowing me even want something like that to happen? You knew my thoughts on this kind of thing from before. We had already covered at least that much of it more than three years ago, and I can tell you it's even _less_ likely to happen now than it was then. Giving up a really good job that I'm good at, with great benefits, is even more unlikely than giving up working at Merlotte's was. And I really liked working for Sam. I am here _visiting you_. You remember that, right? Just try to wrap your head around that one really, really well."

I shook my head thinking about what a mess I might have made. "I have to find a way to fix this, to make sure that things will be okay all the way around. So that they won't come bothering you. No IRS or Homeland Security and INS bullshit raining down on you. I was so fucking stupid not realizing that Manny was _not_ going to be my problem," I muttered to myself.

He seemed as if trying to absorb that bit of information vis a vis my job was rather difficult for him. He looked at me with a cold displeasure.

"You say you wouldn't quit your job. That you don't want to move back home. But still, you came here, Lover. If you aren't interested, why come?"

"If I'm not interested in what? I care about you. I missed you and so I came to _visit _you. You _asked_ me to visit you, remember that? You contacted _me_. Maybe you and I have a very different idea of what a visit entails, Eric. A visit is not moving back to Louisiana. We're just spending time together. I wanted to spend time with you. And even if I were someday to move back here, what… am I supposed to just drop my entire life if I want to be around you? I would no more give up my entire life to be with you than I would expect you to give up your entire life here to go live in DC. Did you think I was just kidding you three years ago? Are you really even seeing me as I am or are you still seeing every other woman you've known? Between all the trouble I've caused you and your seeming inability to accept the fact that I don't want to just laze around for the rest of my life, I seriously wonder what we're even doing here," I said with quite an edge to my voice.

I was getting upset. Really upset. Part of me really did wonder what I was doing here. What were we even thinking about? What did I think coming here meant? To me? To him? Basically, if I had to be honest, I hadn't thought of anything beyond just enjoying these two weeks. I hadn't thought of anything beyond just being with him again, however briefly, because the thought of anything lay beyond that was just too unsettling. But that was the personal end of it. The work end? I'd felt so conflicted about being here and now I wondered whether it was just one great big mistake. I'd gone from worrying about really getting hurt emotionally again to getting really mad at him and being worried that I was putting him into a risky situation just by virtue of my being there. What a mess.

He sighed, and looked away.

"Just _relax_. I _get_ it, alright? Without intending to make you even angrier, would the FBI let you work from here?" he asked looking at me sideways. He had an edge to his voice that suggested that things were already not quite going as he had planned.

"I don't know. It's ridiculous to even contemplate since I've been here for all of a few hours, Eric. I'm on vacation. A much needed vacation. You need to seriously rein it in, okay? I don't want to spend time angsting over all of this. I came to see you, spend time with you, and _to relax_. I was also looking forward to seeing Pam. I wanted some downtime with quiet minds. We're seriously not talking about any future plans until well after I leave. I'm on vacation. Let me enjoy it. And in my free time, I'll try to figure out just how Machiavellian my employer could go on us."

He looked at me and smiled. I felt a smooth blanket of warmth from him. He was definitely trying to diffuse my anxiety and frustration. I felt as if he was trying to soothe me somehow.

"Oh, you'll enjoy your vacation. My goal is to make you want to come back, to stay. So you are going to have a very enjoyable time. I assure you of that, Lover."

"Fine, Eric. Bring it on." I tried not to roll my eyes. And to get my heart rate to go down as I thought about Chuck Powell, my boss's boss, who had never liked me and never liked 'soft' interrogation even as a concept.

"The last time I heard you say that we were having a _lot_ more fun at the time," he said with a sexy voice.

I puzzled over that for a moment and then remembered and felt myself, amazingly for an almost 30 year old woman, blush with pleasure at that memory.

"Yeah, I remember that time. It was definitely more fun than fielding phone calls from my boss. And I recall we dealt with the 'I'm not going to make any drastic changes to my life' stuff too, right? But afterwards."

"Well, I reserve the right to make you _want_ to make drastic changes, Lover. I will tell you up front that it is precisely my goal."

He pulled me up onto his lap and began kissing me. When I got to come up for air I found I was just trembling. A flood of memories, of desire, just filled my mind. He went on kissing me for a while but when his hand slid down to my breast I flinched slightly. I was so unused to being touched other than for dancing and hugs from friends now. He stopped and pulled back to look at me and then brushed some of my hair back behind my ear. With his hand gently cupping my cheek he looked at me with those intense blue eyes and said softly,

"Have you been with anyone else since you were with me, Sookie?"

He knew. I didn't know how he knew, but he did.

Without meeting his eyes, I just silently shook my head. No one. I was back to where I was before I met Bill. How could I ever have a relationship with a human man? It simply wasn't possible for me given their ceaseless inner voices. And I had avoided supes as if they were landmines.

I was surprised to feel no huge swell of pride or happiness from him at that little revelation. I looked up at him and he looked almost sad although there was something else to it that I couldn't quite understand . He massaged my shoulder a bit with his hand. Finally he asked soberly,

"I never had the chance to ask you anything more… personal after that night. I knew some of what they did. But you were in so much pain, I… Beyond the very obvious injuries, they didn't… rape you, did they?" He was practically gritting his teeth as he waited for my answer.

I shook my head. "No," I said softly. "They didn't go that far. They seemed to think I was disgusting. They were too busy dining on me and then having sex with each other at that point." It was still so gross to think about that, since they were siblings and all.

He looked pained at my words but I felt through the bond that he was very relieved. Frankly, the thought of Neave and Lochlan raping me, given what they were already doing to me, had been so potently horrifying that I had hoped they would just slip up and kill me before they got to that one, because they probably _would_ have thought of it eventually.

"I am relieved, although certainly they had done enough already. You were so bloody everywhere according to Bill that he wasn't sure and Ludwig was so busy evacuating people by the time I got there… I didn't want to ask you then. But I have wondered all this time, especially after Bill said that you didn't date anyone, that your friend for dancing was gay." He paused for a moment and then said as if choosing his words carefully, "Are you still very scarred from your injuries, in spite of all the blood I gave you? It would not bother me. My concern is that it bothers you."

"I've had surgery on the remaining scars, Eric. Scar revision surgery. They just cut out the scar and resealed it with surgical glue or very fine sutures. Manny arranged for me to have some of the work done at Walter Reed in Bethesda. They do really great things with scars. And my left breast didn't heal well. I had that fixed. The breast I had done in New York by a fancy plastic surgeon who does breast reconstruction. It's all probably worse in my eyes than it would be to anybody else, because I look at the scars that remain and I… I remember. I can't forget how I got them. How they _enjoyed_ what they did to me." He really winced at that comment. "I just can't forget it, that there are beings that can think that way. Really delighting in the pain they cause. I look at the scars and remember. It's why I don't get tan, although actually they said that it might make the scarring worse to get sun exposure. But I just don't even want to lie out and look at myself. It still makes me feel sick to think about it all. I still can't get away from remembering it. Anyway, it is what it is."

"You were afraid to be with anyone because of the scars?" he asked quietly, brushing more hair away from my neck and stroking it gently.

"No. I just… I wasn't afraid, Eric. I just didn't want to be with anyone. I just wanted to be alone." It wasn't just my not wanting to deal with a human mind, or the faint scars that still remained. Basically, I didn't want to be having sex with anyone I didn't love anymore. Maybe, too, because I still loved him. No matter how much that realization frightened me, I couldn't escape it. I loved him. And even though he'd told me he loved me a month ago, and even several times since that time, I was just too afraid of all the implications of my loving him to deal with it. A large part of me just didn't believe that Eric was serious, anyway. And yet here I was, in Louisiana, with him, even sitting in his lap. Risking… everything. Sookie is such a fool, I thought to myself. I needed to be more like my alter ego, Sasha. Tougher, smarter. Safer.

He leaned back against the couch and looked at me oddly. He seemed almost to be examining me, my thoughts.

"What?" I asked softly.

"You love me, Sookie. I _know_ you love me. Sooner or later you are going to have to break down and say it. Because I told you and if I'm willing to say I love you, then the very least I'd expect is for you to admit it back. Things are going nowhere until you can say it, Lover."

"Things are going nowhere? What, is that your way of saying that you're not going to touch me for two whole weeks unless I say I love you? Great bargaining chip. That'll make me _really_ receptive, right?" I was seriously hoping he was kidding. Three years was a long, long time. He had been almost impossibly flirtatious with me for the past month when we had Skyped regularly. Pam's description hadn't been too far off the mark for some of our phone calls , especially for the past two weeks. He seriously had better be kidding.

"Oh, I'll touch you, sure. I'm touching you now right? You mean sex? No. No sex. And you might want to think about the fact that what you're saying _you_ want, sex, is what you said was only the result of the bond and of having had my blood and all of the other bullshit that you could come up with. That somehow it's always me, influencing you, controlling you. I can get sex easily. What I want from you is more than sex, Lover. I hope you're listening carefully. _I'm_ saying no. You're the one asking. I can say what _I_ feel. I told you what _I _want. You give me nothing in return. That bond is just controlling your every move, isn't it? What a vampire's success story." he said in a mordant tone.

I wouldn't look in his eyes then, and just tugged his shirt collar back into its proper alignment. I finally looked up at him again and saw that he had the most triumphant grin on his face and his eyes were positively sparkling. One of the only serious things that Eric had talked about over the past month, other than the whole safety thing, was the fact that he was very sick of my saying that whatever I felt or was motivated to do was solely because of the bond between us. The only time I'd seen him really close to totally losing his cool during our conversations was one time I'd said my that I thought that much of whatever we felt was artificial because of the blood bond. He thought that was absolutely ludicrous and pointed out that we had known each other and enjoyed each other's company for quite sometime before the bond was made. The rational part of my mind told me he was right. Unfortunately, that part of my mind had rarely ever been on display where Eric was concerned.

"Would you be willing to accept that I missed you a great deal?"

"_No._ No, I wouldn't. That would be wholly inadequate and total bullshit. In fact, it would be insulting. Do you usually have sex with people just because you missed them? I'd really want to know something like that at the outset. What a red flag to any serious relationship, right? Who else do you miss, may I ask?" He paused and shook his head. "You're really the most stubborn woman I've ever known. And I have known a _lot_ of women."

I smiled and said caustically, "I'm already getting over missing you. And gosh, I feel so special. The most stubborn ever? You always make me feel so…"

He grabbed me started kissing me ardently and then he pulled off my jacket, as he shifted me to face him with my legs straddling his thighs. He started kissing my throat. I felt his fangs press flat against my neck and I drew a sharp breath as I felt an overwhelming desire to be bitten. But he didn't bite. His hands caressed my breasts and I moaned.

"So that _was_ enough, then? You were always so easy, Eric," I murmured sarcastically while he nuzzled around my ear.

He pulled away from my neck and looked at me shaking his head again.

"You better not start teasing me, Sookie," he said with a leer. "Or Sasha or whatever your name of the moment is."

Then he groaned and lifted me off his lap, set me down on the couch and got up and sat in a nearby chair, arms crossed across his chest. His trousers looked as if they were now seriously and uncomfortably tight. I bit my lips trying not to laugh. I was in only slightly less stirred up shape.

"Well, I would never do anything in your office, anyway, Eric. Perhaps you should call me Alexandra. Since Sasha is really short for Alexandra. Keep things formal so that you take it down a notch. You know Alexandra means 'defender of mankind'? I wanted a strong name."

"I'm just enthralled," he said sarcastically, glaring at me a bit. He looked a bit frustrated.

"Wow, I really thought that was supposed to work the _other_ way around? No wonder you're so put out," I said in a playfully sarcastic tone. "Why that's even worse than not being able to enthrall _me_, now isn't it? What shall I have you do while you're enthralled? I'll have to choose carefully because I'm betting that this doesn't happen often… If you'll give me a minute I'll go down the short list of my favorite things for Eric to do."

I could tell he was really enjoying himself at that comment. He looked at me open mouthed, fangs run down, eyes now with a reddish glow. He truly looked like mischief. His tongue danced around his fangs and then he licked his lips. He looked me up and down in a suggestive fashion.

"I'll tell you what _I'm_ going to do, Lover. I going to tell you everything I _would be_ doing with you right now, if only you were a _braver_ and more forthright partner…"

At that remark, I took out my Blackberry of out my tossed aside jacket and started scrolling through email with a sigh. I shook my head. Was he saying I was a lying coward?

"Well Eric, insults will get you nowhere. Few women like to be insulted. I'd really have thought after a thousand years you'd have picked up on that by now. And I really find office settings to be very unromantic, actually. They make you take all these anti-sexual harassment courses at the FBI. No one who's been through more than two or three would ever feel an office is a romantic setting. They've practically traumatized us on the topic. The mere thought is stressful. So if you were thinking you could seduce me here, in your office, I'm just giving you the heads up that I think your plan is going to fail miserably. Besides, I can just sit here envisioning every other woman that's been on this couch and it's a massive turn-off. Now, a bedroom might be a more realistic temptation. But whatever your plan, it had better be more creative than your office couch with whomever you have guarding outside listening at the door." I paused, looking absently at my phone, thinking of something from three and a half years before. Something I hadn't been willing or able to put into words until now. "You know, I've often wished that I'd gone to stay with you in Shreveport when you asked me to. Maybe what happened to me wouldn't have happened. Maybe what happened to you and Bill and to Clancy wouldn't have happened. Maybe Tray and even Claudine would still be alive. Although on the other hand, maybe the fairy fiends would have come during the day and killed you in your sleep, to get me, and it would be much worse that it was." I snorted ruefully, "Maybe it's stupid to waste time thinking of what might have been. Eventually, I hope to be able to quit doing that. Still not making much progress with that goal, though."

I saw him shift in the chair and lean forward as if he was going to reach out to me as I said all this. I looked away. His emotions seemed to shift quickly and suddenly I felt such sorrow from him that I ached inside. He probably had no idea how much I had tormented myself in the first year after I'd left. I guess he was starting to see the edge of it. And that was before I'd found out about what Felipe had done to him and to Bill, all because of me. I didn't really know what he'd been through either, though. But, maybe in some odd way, through the bond, I had known that it was so very bad for him. After all, the first year had been so horrible. Was it really only _my_ feeling that way? Had part of the awfulness that I felt been _his_ awful? In any case, over the course of three years I hadn't even tried to contact him, to see if he was okay. I didn't do anything to try to fix things between us or make amends. Until now. I didn't look over to see his face. I really didn't want to. That was about as unguardedly honest as I planned on getting. I could barely even stand to think about it at times. What if my stubborn resistance to accepting his offer to take care of me had resulted in so much loss? Had I cost the lives of people I cared about or he cared about because of my choices? I was just silent and so was he.

I went back to my email and opened an email from Alla and saw the picture of her newly born son, Alexander. He was so beautiful. She was lucky. I didn't think I'd ever have children. After the horror of what had befallen Crystal and Claudine, I just couldn't see risking bringing a child into the world. Even removed from the supernatural world, I had all those lovely genes to pass on to some poor unfortunate child. Fae blood and a chance to suffer with telepathy? No, thank you. My four extra vacation days were part of a plan to go see Hunter and Remy, who still lived in Red Ditch. Hunter was as close as I thought I'd ever get to having a child in my life after Jason's unborn child was murdered along with Crystal by Neave and Lochlan. Eric had told me that Jason still had no children so far as he knew from Bill, who still lived in Bon Temps. Anyway, I wanted to go and see if Hunter was doing okay. I wanted to get to know him a bit, if Remy would let me after my big disappearing act.

"Is everything okay?" Eric asked, clearly picking up on my brooding.

Another wistful moment. They seemed to be piling up. I blinked my eyes which were slightly teary still from moments before. Tonight's visit was getting harder, not easier. I was thinking about saying it was time to call it a night.

"Yeah. A friend of mine, one of the interpreters I work with, just had her baby. A boy. They've named him Alexander. He's named after me. She sent me pictures."

"You are sad."

"No, I'm… happy for her. Of course. I think she may stop working overseas though, because of the baby and all.I can't imagine going to Afghanistan without her. I love her mind. She speaks Arabic, Farsi, Pashto and a language called Dari. It's like Persian, sort of like Farsi, but they speak it in Afghanistan. She's a wonderful person to work with, very engaging. I just can't imagine not having her with me if I go there." Then I murmured, almost to myself, "I can't believe she really named him Alexander… It's so sweet, really."

"So you've been to Afghanistan, then?" He seemed interested. I'd been rather evasive about where I'd traveled.

"Several times. Actually, I guess… eight times in the past eighteen months," I said absently.

"Eight times? Where did you go at the beginning of this month? If you can you tell me now, that is."

I suddenly focused more clearly. Eric hadn't had a security clearance, so he was still only a significant other rather than a spouse in the FBI's eyes after what I'd told Manny. By policy, I could still tell him a few things post hoc. But still not a lot. Really you couldn't tell even the person you were closest to much at all. I knew you could infer certain things. That's what Alla and Mercan did. But you had to be careful not to infer too much.

"Well, considering you're basically my significant other as far as my boss would be concerned, I can tell you some things after the fact. I was in Iraq. In a city called Nasiriyah."

At that statement he sat bolt upright and looked at me as if quite shocked. "They send you to work in places like that? I thought there were still all kinds of bombings and attacks there? That's in the South right? I thought maybe you just went to the capitals, to the embassies, someplace safe. They send you to interview people in such unstable places?"

Uh oh... Hmmm. In retrospect, I probably really shouldn't have told him anything. But I guess he'd have known I was lying if I told him I couldn't tell him anything at all. He wanted to talk about my work. I wondered how much he really wanted to know.

Shaking my head, I said "Eric, you don't have any idea what unstable really means in the world I work in. Nasiriyah is _not_ unstable anymore. It's much better than when I first went there, for instance. I've been to Iraq at least two dozen times. I've stopped counting. And embassies don't make you safe. They're actually a great target. A whole bunch of Americans work there, after all, so you can save yourself a lot of trouble by targeting an embassy. Besides, they can't hold foreign nationals for questioning on embassy soil. It's a violation of international law and one of the Protocols of the Geneva Convention. So you have to go outside the Embassy to interview the people. And Nasiriyah is fine, it's much better than it was. Not all that bad, really. Najaf was always way scarier to me. Besides, some of the places that look calm are very deceptive and much more dangerous for the work I do. The most dangerous place I've ever been wasn't even in a war zone."

"Where else have you been recently? You said when I went to see you in Virginia that you had just returned from a trip. Where did you go then?"

Well, that one was worse than Nasiriyah, but not for any obvious reason. I hesitated and I guess he could even tell from the expression on my face that it wasn't a very safe trip at all.

"I really want to know, Sookie. I realize I was evasive with you about things here, but now you know. You've been very vague about what you do, or at least where you do it. I realize that you can't tell me some things, but I want to know what you _can_ tell me. I want to know the truth about what it is that you're really doing. It sounds much riskier than what I had thought it was. I envisioned you in a nice safe room, talking to suspected terrorists with guards and your interpreters. I didn't think about _where_ you were doing these things. I want to know where you go."

_A nice safe room_? Was he for _real_? Maybe at The Hague or a Federal prison facility! Tents on military bases like Guantánamo or much worse was a bit more what I was used to. Or scary prisons in various Central Asian or Iraqi cities. Or there was that time in Waziristan… I groaned internally. If he cared for me even a bit, he was not going to be happy. And he had been claiming to care much more than a bit. He was also looking at me like he wasn't going to give up on finding out more info and clearly white lies were not going to cut it.

"Okay, but I can already see you are not going to like a lot of where I go. And you really can't tell anyone the stuff I tell you, okay? Right before you came to Alexandria, I was in Islamabad. The FBI frequently loans our services to the Army. I was screening some guy that was a captured Taliban leader. That's not info you can share with _anyone_. Islamabad isn't supposed to be a bad place to go. But sometimes, like I said, the 'safer' places are not really safe at all if you really shouldn't be there, doing what you're doing, in the first place. We were there questioning the guy pretty much illegally, at least so far as I could tell. I normally hate shit like that. I had a bad scare with something like that when I was in Khartoum over a year ago, screening some Al Qaeda guys. That turned out to be some freaky CIA operation and the Sudanese government got wind of the whole thing and it was a real mess. I was there for less than eight hours but it was really scary. You can't tell anyone about that either. Sometimes they don't tell me anything until I get there and even then what I know is from what I figure out by reading the people I'm actually supposed to be working for. I told Manny when I got back that time from Khartoum that I wouldn't to go places illegally anymore unless they told me about what the deal really was and let me decide for myself. I mean, if you get caught, they could do anything they wanted with you. The US would probably deny everything, just like they do for CIA operatives."

"So they send you out to some of these dangerous places to 'screen' people they've captured. _That's _your job?" He really looked wide-eyed and Eric was not exactly a person I would think of as being wide-eyed at much.

"Well, you're not too likely to capture terrorists in nice, safe places these days, Eric. I interviewed a couple of war criminals in The Hague once. That was a nice safe office job. Or some jihadi suspects in Berlin, London, or Madrid. Or I get to screen domestic terror subjects here or in Canada. But those are the exceptions. My team does _field work_. That's what we specialize in and the bulk of what I do. Interviewing people on site is better because you stand a better chance of being able to preemptively intervene, or nab more cohorts or grab their weapons or supplies. In counterterrorism, field work is paramount and it's much better than all the rendition stuff that they were doing five years ago. The counterterrorism units are a frontline for protecting American interests domestically and even abroad. The goal is to preemptively prevent anyone from entering the US for the purpose of terrorist activities, to analyze suspects connections to known US cell suspects, and to safeguard our interests overseas. We do the Arab world, Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan. They'd also like to get an interpreter I can work with that speaks Indonesian and Malay. But I haven't found one I can work with yet. I'm very picky about who I work with. We go out to military installations, prisons, local military bases to do analyses, or to camps holding enemy combatants. And yeah, I have been to some seriously scary places to screen people. After I was in Khartoum, six weeks later they sent me, legally of course, to Waziristan, in western Pakistan, with Alla and Ahmed, to interview people. _That's_ a pretty lawless area. I saw a jeep of people I knew blown up by a landmine. That was bad. And the only support we had was a small contingent and mostly Pakistani Army. You really cannot imagine some of the people I've screened. Some are almost as frightening as fairies, let me tell you. Of course, sometimes you find someone who's innocent, just in the wrong place at the wrong time, though. But some, just a few… really you wouldn't want to know. Thinking _any_ price to achieve your goal was just fine because heaven awaited you no matter what you did in the name of what you believe in. Being inside the head of a person like that is a frightening thing. But most of the people I screen have just been exploited, indoctrinated and manipulated. They are following their own leadership's propaganda just like I guess you could say we were following ours, although definitely their methods or plans are a lot more questionable than our stated agenda of freedom and democracy. But still, to me, one could hardly be in a position to judge or tell them to find a better way to survive without giving them the means to make different choices. Especially in Afghanistan. I guess if I've taken one thing home in my work, it's my conclusion that the problems that _create_ the circumstances where people become terrorists really aren't being addressed sufficiently. I've interviewed terror suspects as young as twelve. Imagine interviewing a _child _terror suspect, Eric," I said shaking my head sadly. "One kid went to this school, where he learned to hate all Westerners, because he wanted to _eat_. It was where he was getting his food. Food, prayers and hatred. What can you say to a child who wants to eat and is willing to shoot people or set bombs as the suggested way of showing thanks? What do you do with that child after you have him? Send him back home to be hungry again? About the only way I can do what I do is the thought that I'm sparing these people some very unpleasant treatment by someone else. For every person I screen, it's one less person who gets those 'enhanced' interrogation methods. That's a pretty inadequate feeling at times, though," I said softly.

He looked at me silently for a minute then said almost bitterly,

"And you think it would be dangerous moving back to Louisiana?"

"No, I think, for now at least, it would be a poorer use of my ability. Plus, I guess I think if I were living here, the way you keep trying to suggest… I'd just end up brokenhearted and you would end up feeling guilty when it all ends badly. So I might as well just do this because at least I'm being very useful. In fact, it's probably the most useful I've ever felt. I guess I just don't know how long I can continue doing it before losing a sense of empathy for mankind because we have such capacity for indifference or harm. Because I have seen some seriously horrible things in other people's heads. Or before it becomes so unsafe that I just can't do it without feeling like I have a death wish or something. That's another factor. No reason to have survived Neave and Lochlan to get myself killed over there, right?"

Well, if I was going for unguarded, I had certainly arrived in a big way.

He looked away and was quiet for a minute. Finally, he turned back to me and said,

"If you told them you didn't want to go on those risky jobs, why did they send you to Pakistan this recent time? You said you didn't want to go anywhere unless it was legal, right? But you thought what they were doing was kind of illegal."

Well, that was a tricky question to answer.

"Well, I volunteered to go that time. I knew it wasn't quite on the up and up. Part of the counterterrorism team I work with at Quantico was going on loan to the Army, so I volunteered to go, to help them. They knew I'd end up going with them. Besides if I go, then I just talk to the person instead of… well you get the picture. Accuracy of information was an important issue on that job. Personally, I don't really think you get much accurate information from hurting people or terrorizing them back. Plus, it just creates a whole other range of problems. Let's just say there are others who don't quite agree with that take."

He studied me thoughtfully and then said,

"Why would the US need to be in Pakistan illegally anyway? They're a US ally, right?"

I looked at him and shook my head again. "Couldn't tell you. But I'm sure you're more than bright enough to figure out why a superpower might go into another sovereign state and start interrogating suspected terrorists under the auspices of their military rather than their actual government."

"I guess when you think they think the government won't really do the right thing? But why even care about somebody in Pakistani custody? He was already captured, right?"

"I should get you a subscription to _The Economist _as a present. Not just great business and political news. Great foreign affairs analysis in a really accessible format. Basically, I'd say this: some people believe that the Taliban are still quite well connected with Al Qaeda. Al Qaeda is a small group of people compared to the numbers you see with the Taliban, who definitely have an army. I'm sure you heard on the news that the Taliban were only about fifty miles outside of Islamabad right? There's a lot of interesting stuff in Islamabad," I said, nodding. "You know, like the entire government. A lot of access to things."

He raised his eyebrow. He was silent for less than a minute and then said soberly, "Pakistan has nuclear weapons." He'd quickly grasped what I clearly wasn't going to be spelling out for him.

"Hey, even _vampires_ might be affected by those," I said with a smile.

Eric stared at me for some time, silently. I figured he was now probably _really_ sorry he had asked me about my work.

I glanced at my watch. It was almost 1 am and felt an hour later for me. "I think I'm going to go back to the hotel and get some sleep. I've been up since 6 am Eastern time."

Eric leaned forward and extended his hand to me. I smiled and took it. We rose and he looked down at me for a moment silently and then he said,

"I want to show you around upstairs," he said, holding my hand firmly in his.

"What's upstairs?" I asked.

"I said I'll show you," he said with a playful smile. "Maybe you could try to act like you're glamoured as we go out? It will make a much better impression. I have a reputation to maintain."

"Yeah, well really I don't think that's gonna happen, Eric," I said with a rueful shake of my head.

I gathered up my gear, and balancing carefully, put my M4, its clips and the knives back where they were. I rotated my feet back and forth at to make sure the items were secure. I carried my Glock in its holster since I was just carrying my leather jacket. Eric stood, holding his jacket and shook his head while watching at me putting all the hardware back in place. Next time, a purse, and less gear, I thought to myself. Now I almost felt silly for having brought all the stuff.

We exited his office and headed toward the stairs. I noted the two very big guys standing guard outside in the hall. Now that I had to walk by them, I could see their names. One, the dark haired vampire, had a nametag that said Markus and the other, the huge blonde vampire, was Andor. They looked at me curiously. I had my leather jacket draped over my arm, and my gun in hand, and I still looked pretty proper. Plus, I guess it had been pretty obvious to their ears that we'd only been talking. We went up the old stairs. The building, even in Sophie-Anne's heyday, had been little more than a glorified office building. The third floor, where she had resided when not in another of her residences, had been decorated much more nicely, with wooden floors and oriental carpets. These were largely still in place. Eric led me down a very long hallway and around a corner and then came to a stop in front of a door that looked like all the other doors. It had a keypad and he entered a code and the door opened.

We entered the dark room and the door closed behind us. I could hardly see anything at all. I don't think I would even have seen my hand six inches in front of my face. The only thing I could see was the faint glow from Eric's head and hands, the only exposed areas of his skin. It wasn't enough of a glow to illuminate much. Eric touched my arm as if to tell me to stay put and then walked away and turned on a light on a desk. We were in a large room, with many bookcases, a large desk with a laptop on it and a beautifully upholstered armchair. I realized this was where he had been skyping me all those nights. The room had blacked out windows that his laptop camera would face. Swords, daggers and several interesting shields were displayed along a long wall. I walked over and started looking at the swords with fascination. One, which looked like an old broadsword, had nicks in the metal and looked quite old. It was at least three feet long and looked quite heavy. There were many other swords and two long daggers and several smaller ones that appeared to be the iron ones that Eric had used the night he fought Breandan and his people. While I looked at the swords and daggers, Eric came and stood behind me and massaged my shoulders. I reached up to touch the sword with the nicks and he quickly stopped me, grasping my hand.

"It's really sharp. Especially where the metal has been chipped away. "

"Have you fought with all of these?" I asked quietly.

"Yes," he responded. He glanced up and down the wall. "All of them."

"I remember those," I said pointing to the iron daggers. I shivered.

I turned and looked around at the bookcases. There were easily several thousand books in the room. I took in the sheer numbers wondering if he had really read all of them. Books from all periods, and many in different languages. I pulled out a slim volume of Samuel Taylor Coleridge and found it opened readily to _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_. I smiled, remembering a night long ago in Jackson when I quoted the poem, meaning something quite different from the intended passage and Eric… just got me. He leaned down to look at what I was reading and chuckled. He kissed my temple. I closed the book and replaced it on the shelf. It seemed the books were organized according to genre, like poetry or fiction, but within that genre, it looked like anything goes, authors, languages, all mixed, no order. Although, all the Dickens was together, which seemed random considering the rest was so disorganized.

"I haven't had time to organize them again," Eric said as if catching my thoughts. "They were packed badly, from my house in Shreveport, when I moved. Someone did them according to size rather than how I had them organized. I do a little at a time occasionally. If I read an author, I try to gather up all of that author. I haven't had much time to read lately, though."

I started to think about the difficulty of trying to read a book with only one hand and forced myself, drawing a sharp breath at the thought, to stop.

"Which Dickens?" I asked softly to inquire what book he'd read to lead him to organize all his Dickens books.

"_A Tale of Two Cities_," he said.

"Really? I just read it over Christmas. I liked it much better than some of his other books. I liked the history and social issues in it."

"You should talk to Pam about it. She loves Dickens. Dickens certainly isn't my favorite writer. But I enjoyed the book, too."

"Who's your favorite writer?" I asked, glancing up at him.

"At the moment? Mann? No… Probably Dostoyevsky."

"Hmm. Never read any Dostoyevsky. I like Tolstoy, though. _Anna Karenina_, especially. I've been doing more reading in the past three years than in my whole life before. It's the first time I've read real literature. One of my friends recommends books to me and we discuss them."

Leaving his hand on my shoulder he leaned closer to the shelves and looked carefully around in the dim light. Finally, he pulled out a book and handed it to me.

"_Crime and Punishment_. Such a charming title," I said with an ironic smile. "It sounds like a really happy tale."

"You can borrow it, but you have to give it back. I hardly ever loan books."

I tried to hand it back to him, saying "I can get it at the library. Really."

He pushed it back. "Read mine."

"Okay. I'll make it my 'light' vacation read… No Jane Austen or the Brontës for you, eh?"

I held the book to my chest with my jacket and gun laden arm and continued to examine the books, pulling out an occasional one while chatting.

"They're too optimistic for my taste," he said wryly, which made me laugh. (The Brontës _optimistic_?) "I probably have all of them down here, though," he said as he leaned down to glance at one of the lower shelves. "Yes, Pam put them in order. Pam likes Austen and Charlotte. She does not like Ann or Emily. She likes George Eliot quite a bit, too. Pam is the only other person who has been in here since we moved in. But Pam," he took up my hand and pulled me along the wall toward another door, "never comes in here."

We entered a room that again was so dark after he briskly closed the door behind us that I probably could have walked into a wall and not seen it coming. I hadn't had a chance to look around before the door closed and now was standing stock-still, just as before, in total darkness with only a very faint illumination from Eric himself. I heard the sound of a match being struck and Eric lit several candles. My heart rate about doubled. The illuminated room was dominated by a king size bed with black silk bedding. It was a sleigh bed. It and the other furniture in the room appeared to be mahogany. The room was fairly spartan, however.

"No coffin?" I joked.

"Only for travel, if necessary, Lover. There's a collection downstairs, first floor."

I touched the wood of the footboard. The bed was huge and high off the ground. He walked over to me and removed my gun and holster, the leather jacket and the book from my hands and placed them on a long table in front of the blacked out windows. Then he walked back, lifted me up and sat me on edge of the bed. He carefully took off all my gear from my ankles, gingerly grasping the leather wrapped handle of the small silver knife, and put them onto the table next to my gun. He walked purposefully back over to me and stood close to me, with his thighs pressing against my knees. He tipped my chin upward. He stared down at me, his eyes glowing softly, and said with the slightest accent,

"Tell me."

My heart was pounding so hard. I cast my eyes downward for a moment, to look at my hands in my lap, and then just closed them. Then I looked back up at him, at how expectant he was. I let out a long quiet breath and finally said so softly it was almost a whisper,

"I love you. I always loved you."


	6. Chapter 5

**V.**

It's surprising, sometimes, how just giving in can be kind of liberating. Lying there after we had just returned to the bed, I had the feeling of not having just thrown caution to the wind, but having probably set it on fire for good measure, right before tossing it aside. After ten minutes of more relaxed silence, during which I really fought the urge to fall asleep, Eric rolled over toward me and smiled mischievously, kissing my hand. With my other hand, I pulled my watch back out from under a pillow and noted that it was 4:03 am. Eric took the watch out of my hand and put it over on the nightstand. He nuzzled against my cheek and then his tongue licked a bit of salty perspiration away from my throat, down to the notch of my collarbone, and out onto my shoulder. I shivered and smiled. I had been bitten and made love to for the past two and a half hours. But he could still raise goose bumps.

"Are you sore?" he asked in a whisper near my left ear.

"Why do you need this information?" I countered in a playful whisper unable to keep myself from smiling.

"Because I'm not done with you yet, Agent Gordon," he said in husky whisper into my ear.

I pressed my face against his cool, dry shoulder and just said, "MmmmHmmm. _Really_?" still with a smile but shaking my head. He had to be kidding.

He took up my hand and demonstrated the need for his question. He was _not_ kidding_._ As my hand kept busy, he bit his index finger and set to work. My breath became all shuddery. After a minute of what felt like I was living a Marvin Gaye song, Eric kissed me, and sat up, shifting me in order to put my legs around his waist. Then he entered me again. After a few minutes he pulled me up so that I was sitting in his lap. We rocked in a slow rhythm, and I rested my cheek and nose against his throat.

"Sookie, look at me," he said in a low whisper. "Look at me."

My eyes opened slowly and I leaned back to look up at him. Everything felt dreamlike, hypnotic. My eyes locked onto his for a moment. Then I leaned forward and kissed the spot on his throat where I'd nipped him earlier. But he rocked me back so that we could see each other again.

"Two things," he said softly. "I want you to stay with me. Now, during the day. I want to wake up next to you. And... before you go back to Virginia, I want to marry you according to Louisiana state law. I'm telling you straight out tonight so you have a good two weeks to get used to the idea. I want to marry you legally."

Between feeling more than a bit sleepy, and my overall present situation… which was _highly_ distracting… it was very difficult to concentrate. But still… was I getting that right? Did he seriously just ask me to _marry_ him? Marry him for real, as in legal marriage? After three years apart and seeing each other three times in the past five weeks? _Before I went back home to Virginia?_ Even in my haze, I wondered what in God's name he was thinking. Was he _crazy_?

"Stay here today," he reiterated softly. "Stay with me."

My brain fog suddenly seemed to clear all at once. Well that one definitely wasn't possible, either. The other one was just plain crazy, but the first one? I couldn't do that, at least not today. I shook my head.

"No, I can't stay here, Eric. I need to go to my hotel. I have to be able to meet with Sara Weiss this morning. I promised my boss."

He stopped our rocking motion and looked down at me intently. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was willing me to stay with him with that look.

"I want to wake up next to you," he said again, much more firmly this time, in the manner of someone totally used to getting whatever he wanted. I remembered how autocratic he had been as a Sheriff and saw things had not changed one bit. Given his present situation, I was guessing things might have gotten a bit worse, actually.

"Well, not _today_ Eric. Not today. I'm sorry, I just can't. Manny will get totally freaked out if Sara can't connect with me in person. It's not safe to change the plan like that. He may not trust things are really okay until Sara's seen I'm fine. It's not safe for you and your people if Manny gets antsy. You have to remember that I'm a huge investment to them. The FBI doesn't _have_ another telepath. This isn't a game to them, my being here. Manny may sound all light and nice, but if he gets concerned about my safety, it could be a serious problem for you and everyone living here."

"So call them and tell them you're staying here today. They can see you tonight. After sunset. I want you to stay here with me, Sookie."

I swear his eyes could have bored holes into sheet metal.

"No, I can't. I said no. I really meant _no_. I have to be able to connect with her easily tomorrow in a place she's going to feel comfortable going to. She's not going to feel comfortable making sure I'm fine by coming here. Especially since that wasn't the plan I gave Manny. How about I promise I'll stay with you tonight and tomorrow during the day, okay? Today is totally non-negotiable."

His face now looked like a mask of tightly controlled calm. It wasn't fooling me one bit since I could feel just how _not _happy he was that I wouldn't do what he wanted. He really wasn't happy hearing 'no'. It did not look like he had heard 'no' often in recent times. At least not from someone he wasn't going to eventually force into doing what he wanted anyway. But he looked like he was taking my refusal. For now. Of course, part of me couldn't believe that after making it seem like he was accepting that I was going to stay in a hotel, he was now _still_ trying to get me to stay with him. Really, it was classic Eric. Always determined to get his way. I should have known, I thought to myself.

Finally he said softly,

"You heard the other part, right?" His eyes looked calmer now.

"Yes, I'm and I'm not dealing with that one at all right now…" I sighed as I rocked my hips forward against him. "Right now I'm on vacation, remember. I'm really enjoying my vacation. It's spectacular so far. I'm busy with other things. Very, very busy," I said in a playful tone.

I smiled up at him and then leaned forward and rubbed my cheek on his neck and kissed his collarbone. Even with the disagreement about where I was spending the day, I still very happy. This was all even better than I remembered. Much better.

He rocked me back away from his chest and then held my face firmly, pulling my lips almost roughly to his, kissing me passionately. Then he shifted so us that he was back on top of me, pinning my hands with his. He thrust into me while staring down at me, his eyes glowing. His hair was hanging partly loose now, a mess and all tangled. I just looked up at him. I freed my hand to stroke his cheek and pull the band from his hair to completely loosen it. I just looked at him. He was really quite beautiful.

Eric paused and looked at me as if he was puzzled.

"Are you too tired? Upset? You are so quiet. I'm not hurting you?"

I shook my head. In the flickering candlelight, looking up at the soft glow in his eyes, I felt a swell in my heart. In that one moment, in spite of the many things that had gone so wrong in my former life, I felt that he was one thing that had been so right. And I'd simply turned my back and walked away from him. And now? I really felt happy being here with him. I knew in my heart it wasn't any bond or blood or vampire magic. It was really just… him. My eyes suddenly just welled with tears. How hard would it be to remember that feeling later, I wondered? The feeling that it was so right? I knew I could lose hold of that feeling in the blink of an eye. Because I just didn't trust it.

He released my other hand and held my face in his hands just as the tears overflowed. He just looked at me silently, not even asking. I closed my eyes.

"I love you," I whispered. Just saying it felt overwhelming. What am I _doing_? I thought to myself. Here I am, on a total collision course with a fucking emotional disaster...

"Look at me," he commanded. I opened my eyes again. He looked down at me with his jaw clenched. "I love you back," he finally said, somewhat hoarsely, after a minute. "And you had better be back here at sunset, Lover. No disappearing, no running away. I am _done_ with losing you."

I met his eyes but felt puzzled by what I felt from him, which was so intense and complex. I couldn't begin to unravel it. I just nodded and kissed him. He looked as if he was restraining himself from saying more. I understood part of why he was insistent on the business of my staying with him. No freaking out and running away was what he meant. I guess he could feel how overwhelmed I'd felt only moments before? Or maybe even that I'd felt that way since I had finally admitted what he wanted to hear? I wanted to just stop thinking. He shifted us onto our sides and we moved slowly, just looking into each other's eyes. Finally, I closed my eyes and pressed my face into his shoulder, drifting away on a wave of pleasure.

Afterwards, I dressed wearily, and glanced at my watch after retrieving it from the bed. 4:58 am. From checking online in the afternoon I knew that sunrise was around 6:00 am here, about 15 minutes later than at home in Alexandria. I put my holster back on and then my jacket. I shifted my ankle and rotated my foot several times to get the knives into a more comfortable position before slipping back into my heels.

Eric had changed into jeans and a t-shirt. After making sure all of the bite wounds were healed up and completely gone, then hooking my bra, he'd watched me dress, leaning against the bare wall near the door. But only after he'd sniffed at it mischievously with a playful, knowing look. When I was finished dressing he blew out the candles and then took my hand and led me out of the room, and out of his library room. I carried the book in my other hand. As we walked in the hall to the stairs he said in a low voice,

"Don't be bothered by any reactions you get about being upstairs with me. There may be a lot of curiosity."

I gave him a puzzled look. He stroked my hand with his thumb.

"I really wasn't kidding when I say I don't take anyone to my houses, my rooms, anyplace private that's mine. Even Pam may be surprised."

"She won't be upset will she? I mean, she won't be jealous or anything, right?" I asked in a slightly worried tone, slowing down as we walked.

He paused before we started down the stairs and kissed my forehead.

"She'll be fine, Lover. She'll probably be totally unbearable, in fact" he said with a chuckle.

We went downstairs to the sitting room area where five vampires, including Rasul and Stefan, were lounging around watching a really gross vampire porno movie. All five rose immediately when Eric entered. I turned away, thinking I'd really seen enough in the millisecond that I'd just seen. There are certain places fangs just don't belong, in my opinion. And you'd think that guys would think so even more than I did.

"Rasul, Stefan, you will see Miss Gordon safely back to her hotel. Rasul, check her room thoroughly."

Then he turned back to me and said, "Your daytime security is provided by Bennett Tucker. He's a Were police sergeant with the New Orleans Police Department. He will contact you tomorrow morning, and give you a list of people you may see watching you." He handed me a card with Sgt. Tucker's name and contact info.

I stared up at him in utter disbelief. In a low tone of voice, leaning toward him with my back turned to the five vampires in the room, I said,

"Eric, I'm an armed federal agent. Are you _kidding _me? And I'm going to be under surveillance by Sara's crew without question, as soon as I meet up with Sara tomorrow morning, maybe even before. I won't be able to turn on a dime without someone knowing it. Why are you going to have the police watching me, too?"

He looked down at me coolly with his hands clasped behind his back. He worked his jaw a bit before practically hissing in a low voice, "Because I _wish _it." His eyes looked _really_ angry however, and what I felt flash across the bond matched what I saw in his eyes. He was angry that I was resisting him in public. Very angry. I'd already pushed his buttons earlier with refusing to stay. Clearly, questioning him in front of anyone else, other than maybe Pam, was a serious no-no. I blushed and said no more.

Rasul and Stefan were ready and waiting. I just waited for Eric to 'dismiss' us, which he did promptly, waving us toward the stairs. I checked my watch and saw that it was 5:11 am so I guessed we really should get moving so that Rasul and Stefan would be back with time to spare. Eric walked with us to the second floor landing with his hand heavy on my shoulder. As we got ready to descend he stroked his fingers down my back as if to soothe the earlier situation. I turned back up to look at him to nod good night. He still didn't look happy with me but the feeling I had was more that he didn't want me to be leaving at all not that he was still angry about the other bit. I felt bad but there was nothing I could really do about it. When we got to the landing halfway to the ground floor, he was still standing there looking down at me. My heart felt an odd twist as we descended out of his sight.

After bypassing Pradep, who met us at the side entryway after Stefan had called down to him, we walked briskly down St. Ann and turned onto Dauphine, toward the southwest side of the Quarter and Iberville. There were still people milling around in the streets at this hour as we cut cross the Quarter, avoiding Bourbon St. In contrast to the cordial way that Rasul had greeted me at the start of the evening, he didn't offer me his arm; in fact he seemed eager to leave a bit of distance between us. I wondered if it was because Stefan was there. Since it was drawing closer to dawn, I tried to move as quickly as I could, though I figured that they could certainly make it back to the compound much more quickly than they were moving with me at present. We got to the hotel in less than ten minutes. We went up to the 4th floor and I handed Rasul my keycard so he could go into the room and check it out, as per Eric's instructions. He entered and after a few minutes came back out and handed me the card with a smile.

"Good night, … _Sasha_."

"Shukran, Rasul. Thank you, Stefan." I nodded to them both.

Rasul said "Tasħarrafnaa," and bowed deeply to me, even staying down for a moment.

I blanched. I was caught very off-guard by his formal response in Arabic, which usually just meant nice to meet you, but in its strict interpretation meant they were both honored, further suggested by his bowing so dramatically to me. Stefan then also bowed, though perhaps not as grandly as Rasul and then they waited for me to close and lock my door. I seriously wondered what Pam had told them, because their manner was now totally different with me. It definitely wasn't the manner that I'd learned to expect from a vampire to a human. Could she have told them that Eric was kind of married to me? It would certainly explain Rasul's being more distant. And their deference. I felt embarrassed by it, actually. I had to find a nice way to tell them to cut it out.

I got undressed, washed my face, took out my contact lenses and took a quick warm shower. After toweling myself off, I looked at myself in the full length mirror and saw that Eric hadn't left so much as a mark on me. It was almost 6 am when I crawled into the bed. I left my cell phone charging on the nightstand with the volume way up so that if Sara Weiss called me, I'd be sure to wake. After turning out the light in the room I noticed how much light there was in the hotel room compared to Eric's room when it was dark. Eric had walked as sure-footedly through the darkness as if he had a headlight on. I felt a sudden crashing wave of missing him. It was dawn and I was sure he was in his bed. I turned onto my side and hugged a pillow. It was cool against my cheek. It only made my longing worse. This was the downside of visiting Eric. I would end up missing Eric. In spite of the acuteness of that thought, it didn't take long for me to fall asleep. I was utterly spent physically and emotionally.

I tried to talk myself into being sorry about my late night when Sara Weiss called me at 7:30 am. But I couldn't.

I sleepily answered the phone.

"Good Morning, Sasha."

"Sara? Good morning, how are you?"

"Fine, thank you. Sasha, Manny Diaz asked me to contact you. I'm sorry to call a bit early, I know you're on vacation. Manny says that he would like me to meet with you. Would 9 am be alright with you?"

I rolled onto my back after disconnecting the phone from the charger. Ugh, I thought to myself. 9 am would likely find me still wholly incapacitated.

"Sara, honestly, I got in shortly before 6 am. I'm totally toasted. If you want to come to my hotel room at 9 am, I'd be more than happy to let you visit me here. But for going out, into the streets where I have to be alert, no way. Maybe noon."

I was kind of ticked because I knew that if Manny had given her my GPS info, she probably _knew_ that I hadn't gotten back to the hotel until close to 6 am because they'd probably been tracking me ever since Manny spoke to me last night and all the data was probably being archived.

"Well, alright. I'll let you sleep. Where would you like to meet at noon? Café du Monde?"

I paused before responding. So they had been tracking me well before Manny even called me to ask why I was in the compound then… This was her quiet way of letting me know they had been tracking me ever since I arrived. And probably her reason for calling me so early. She wanted to be clear that they had been watching my every move and would continue to do so. Wow, I thought to myself. How had Manny managed to go all day, and two hours of waiting while I stayed put in the compound before calling? Talk about forebearance…

I tried to do a quick assessment of how I felt. In spite of several little doses of Eric's blood, I could honestly say I ached all over everywhere. Between the lingering effects of my all-out nervous tension about the entire visit itself, the emotional revelations involved and not having had sex in more than three years, it was not a pretty picture. Eric was, after all, extremely... energetic. Even another four hours of sleep was not going to make _me_ energetic. Had I actually thought the previous day about working out in a _gym_ on this trip? I didn't even want to walk all the way down to the Decatur Street riverfront at present. I tried to think of places closer to my hotel that I knew from previous trips to New Orleans.

"Did Brennan's reopen?" I asked, hopefully.

"You mean after Katrina? Sure. They're right there, same place on Royal. A few blocks from where you're staying. You want to meet there?"

"Yeah, that would be better. So noon then, right?"

She agreed. I reconnected the phone to the charger and I set my phone's alarm for 11:30 am. I went back to sleep in short order and slept like the dead.


	7. Chapter 6

**VI.**

As I sat having my third cup of coffee and the rest of my po'boy, I tried not to be offended by Sara Weiss's poor opinion of my judgment. She was really torn by which was more foolish, the fact that I'd come to New Orleans at all or that once I was in New Orleans I was spending all hours of the night in a vampire compound. She was further puzzled because I had said I wanted to get away from 'these people' which in her mind was a generic term comprising all supes. She was trying to size me up and thought that I really didn't seem like a fangbanger type at all. I certainly didn't dress like one. Not even when I walked into that compound. She knew because she'd seen the photos of me walking in and walking out accompanied by two men who were probably vampires. I'd been under surveillance since the moment I landed in New Orleans. Manny had flagged my accounts to see exactly where I was and knew from the moment the standby ticket was paid where I'd been heading. She had the general impression that he was pretty upset, or at least worried, even though he had seemed very matter of fact about having me watched while in New Orleans. It was very clear, however, that Manny had not told her that I was 'married' and visiting my 'husband' and so she had decided that I must be into some seriously kinky stuff in my free time. Really, what I was into was more coffee, and coffee with chicory was simply _not _cutting it for me. I would have made jokes about feeling like death warmed over after spending the night in the vampire compound but I really didn't think she'd get it the way Pam or Amelia would.

"Is there a Starbucks or a Peet's near here? Someplace with regular coffee?" I asked her with a yawn.

"There's a Starbucks right over on Canal," she said.

I nodded gratefully. It would be my new favorite place if I continued to keep these hours on my vacation. In my everyday life I was usually a total morning person when I was at home in Virginia. I'd gone to sleep at the time I normally woke up and I was definitely feeling it.

"So Sara, is Manny going to just have you set up surveillance on me, or am I supposed to report in to you at regular intervals to prove I'm okay, or… what's the plan here?"

"I'm not at liberty to say right now. I guess that staying in contact would be a good idea. Did you know that there's a tall guy over there that's been watching us ever since you got here. He followed you in here, actually." She said the last casually, without looking up at me or over at her target.

I glanced over and saw a fairly tall, lean African-American man dressed in a t-shirt and khakis. When I stared at him he nodded to me and smiled. Likely Bennett Tucker, I thought to myself.

"I think he's watching me for one of my friends, Sara. Don't worry about it."

She glanced over at him furtively by using her camera on her phone. I heard her snap a picture of him.

"Why are your friends having you watched if they are your friends, Sasha?"

"Because one of my friends is a royal pain in the ass," I said with a grimace. Now there was a definite truth.

"So this guy is watching you for the _vampires_?"

"No he's watching me for _a_ vampire. He's a police officer so don't worry about it. It's a long story that I don't have time to get into. So I'm just going to assume that I'm under your surveillance, okay? Sometimes I'm going to be in that compound and sometimes I'm going to be out doing stuff, like I want to go to Preservation to hear Nnenna Freelon, and go visit my former roommate and stuff like that. And at the end of my trip, I'm driving up to Red Ditch, in the north part of the state to see my deceased cousin's little boy."

"I don't think visiting more friends or family is wise. Your identity has been kept closely guarded and it has kept you safe, from the people that did… what they did to you. I think you should avoid people you know. I think you should be more cautious."

"I will be cautious, but I am going to Red Ditch to see my cousin's son at the end of my trip and I'm going to see a few friends I really trust. And I'm going to continue visiting to the vampire compound. I'm giving you the heads up that I'm probably going to spend the day there tomorrow, okay? Just so that you don't get caught off guard. I'll go around sunset and stay through tomorrow. I'll have the phone so if you get concerned you can just text me or email me. I'll keep you posted so that you know my plans."

"Who are you staying with there?"

"Manny knows. He'll tell you if he thinks you need the information." Clearly Manny was being very careful with the info about Eric. I felt a bit more comforted with that thought. I trusted Manny.

After a few more minutes of mutual cloak-and-dagger information hoarding she seemed to be satisfied that I really was fine. She said she'd be on her way, and I treated her to lunch. While I was waiting to pay, the gentleman who'd been watching me came over and introduced himself as Bennett Tucker. He showed me his badge and ID and asked if he could sit. I gestured that he could help himself to the seat vacated by Sara.

"Mr. Northman said that I should give you the list of people we're using. I'm not sure who's gonna be working at what hours yet but until sundown and maybe some evenings we'll be watching over you as needed, ma'am." He handed me a list of six other names with corresponding photos and cell phone numbers. I looked up at him shaking my head.

"Um, what exactly did Mr. Northman tell you about me, and about watching me, Sgt. Tucker?"

"Well, he told me we were to keep you safe from harm and he implied that you were… important to him."

I shook my head in amazement as I looked at the sheet he'd handed me. "Six people. You have _six_ people assigned to watch me?"

"Well at any given time, it's likely to only be one or two. I make the seventh, if I'm available. I'm covering today because it's my day off. Mr. Northman said we had to keep a bit of a distance because you don't like people crowding you, and that we shouldn't be too obvious. But when you get in elevators and such, you should wait for at least one of us. You can call me when you're getting ready going to go out of the hotel."

"Did Mr. Northman inform you that I'm an FBI agent and that I'm armed?"

"Yes, ma'am, he did. He also told me that you wouldn't even ask for help if you needed it and so we should keep a pretty sharp eye on you."

"Did he tell you my FBI colleagues were keeping an eye on me, too?"

"Yes, ma'am. He sent me an email early this morning to that effect. Agent Weiss is one of them? I know her from a local investigation although I could see she didn't know me, or at least she didn't recognize me out of the uniform. But I'm following Mr. Northman's instructions to the letter. I'm sure their agenda is very different from mine."

"Do you have to report back to Mr. Northman?"

"Yes, ma'am. Yes I do." He looked a bit apprehensive about further questions on that point. So maybe there was more to it than Eric just wanting me to be safe, I wondered? Did he want to know what I was up to during the day? Where I went and whom I saw? Well, considering the previous night, I would be too tired to go anywhere or see anyone if we continued on the same tack. I'd have to say though, that it was a sacrifice I would be willing to make. I smiled to myself.

"Fine, Sgt. Tucker. I'm going to pay my bill and go back to my hotel and take a nap in my room, okay?"

He looked relieved that I was going to quit questioning him. I folded up the paper that he'd given me and put it in my purse. I reminded myself that the Eric everybody else was dealing with was the same one that had been furious with me early this morning because I questioned his decisions in public. It wasn't the Eric I was now used to, the one that could be gentle with me or playful or even tolerant of an argument. I was quite sure that Eric could be downright scary when you crossed him. I could imagine Bennett Tucker wouldn't be happy having to explain he lost me, or that I got hurt or that I was too difficult to keep up with.

I thought about walking over to Canal St. to get a coffee but decided what I really should do was go back and take a nap. It was a crowded Saturday in the Quarter. I was glad I was staying on the fringe of it.

I walked back toward Iberville St and saw Tucker casually following me. I didn't see anybody that looked like an agent but I knew few people from the New Orleans office. They could just follow my phone anyway. I turned on Iberville and walked a few blocks to the hotel. I let Tucker get into the elevator with me and we walked toward my room then thanked him and waved him away when we got to the door, which was open because the maid was cleaning the room. He refused to leave right away and got a good look at the maid and her ID, and the room to make sure it was all safe. I just sat in the armchair, wearily waiting for the maid to finish making the bed. I started reading _Crime and Punishment_ and formed an immediate dislike for Raskolnikov, the main character. I thanked and tipped the maid when she indicated she was done, and locked the door after she left. I tried to read for a while but fell back to sleep after about an hour.

I awoke around 6 pm and took a quick shower and dressed. I packed my smaller bag with a change of clothes, makeup, toiletries and my toothbrush and toothpaste. And my gun, of course. Couldn't forego that… I locked the rest of the gear in the room's safe. I wrapped Eric's book in a scarf, to make sure I didn't damage the binding and cover. I went downstairs and over to Galatoire's to get something to eat at 7 pm. The streets were packed, although the restaurant wasn't too crowded yet. I got a few looks asking for a table on my own, but I ignored the maître d' and his sour attitude. I ordered a steak medium rare and grilled vegetables. Then I unwrapped my book and kept reading.

I really disliked Raskolnikov. Basically though, I was afraid there was a Raskolnikov in all of us. Justifying whatever we wanted to do with some skewed logic and sense of entitlement. It worried me that Eric liked this book. Or maybe it comforted me. I couldn't quite decide.

Around about 7:45 pm, before it was actually even sunset, I received a text message from Eric.

_You are not in my bed._

I smiled, reading it. Well, I would be the next time he woke up. I texted that thought back to him.

I was drinking an espresso (thankfully a real one, without having been cut with chicory) while waiting for my check, when I received another.

_I really meant the second thing._

I knew which thing he was saying he meant, but was still amazed at the mere suggestion. I texted back to him:

_You hardly even know me. You haven't seen me for more than three years. That second thing is just plain crazy. Get a grip._

I reflected after I sent the text message that it probably wasn't exactly the most polished reply to a proposal of marriage. Either time. But, seriously, _what_ on earth was the man thinking? He had to be kidding himself if he thought I could possibly take him seriously. But he replied...

_I know you quite well. I know what I want. Not interested in wasting more time, frankly. I'm getting a grip and will not let go again. I assure you._

He knew me quite well? Did he ever reflect on the fact that I didn't know _him_ all that well and might not cotton to making huge commitments to a man I might love but hadn't seen for years and knew only a bit about? We didn't even know if we could get along when spending a lot of time together. Sure he'd lived with me when he'd had amnesia but it was one week, years ago and half his entire personality was gone at the time. And I was an even more independent person now. I read the message a second time. _He knew what he wanted?_ Well, I wasn't so sure he knew what he'd get. I didn't even know what to respond. That last bit in his message sounded a little unsettling, too. Moments later he texted to me,

_Where are you? I thought you would be here soon. Tucker says you are not in the hotel room. He asked me for your number? You were not to go out without his people guarding you._

Oh my gosh! Tucker! I texted back that I was just down the street at Galatoire's and had forgotten to call Tucker. I hadn't even given Tucker a second thought when I'd left the hotel. I'd frankly completely forgotten about them. I just wasn't used to thinking that way. I started digging through my purse looking for the card Eric had given me before I left in the early morning and realized I'd left it in the hotel room.

Eric replied with a stern sounding message,

_Do NOT leave where you are until he arrives. He will bring you here._

A few minutes later, Sgt. Tucker and another Were entered Galatoire's and made their way to my table. I felt really bad. I didn't want to imagine what telling Eric he'd already "lost me" was like, even if it was really my fault for not having called him. Bennett Tucker looked less than pleased with me. He introduced the other Were as Jamie. He looked familiar from the list I'd received at lunchtime. Sgt. Tucker appeared to send Eric a message as soon as they sat down. I was extremely apologetic and gave him my cell phone number, so that next time he could just call me and ask me where I was. I felt bad that I hadn't offered it to him before. Jamie looked at me quite curiously but was silent other than saying he was pleased to meet me. Tucker, however, still looked seriously chafed with me.

With a sigh, I finished my espresso, paid for my dinner and let them walk me toward the compound. I stopped and bought some fruit at a corner market, along with an energy bar, some peanut butter crackers and a bottle of water.

I said good night to Sgt. Tucker and Jamie at the side door to the compound and this evening Pradep would have let me enter with hand grenades and a small thermonuclear device. He waved me _around_ the metal detector after greeting me with a bow. Pam had obviously gotten to him, too, I thought rather ruefully to myself, or at least someone had. After I passed by, I was met by Stefan, who also bowed, the side door was bolted and Pradep disappeared down the hall toward what I thought was likely the front entrance. Clearly no one else was expected to enter through the side entrance for the evening. Stefan led me toward the stairs, after taking my bags. Before we ascended I was puzzled to see several people shuttling around further down the hall. Human people, who did not look like visiting tourists. Did they live here? Were they live-in donors? I wasn't going to ask. At least I wasn't going to ask Stefan, anyway.

Stefan did not speak much as we walked up the stairs and led me up to the third floor rather than the second. I glanced at him and thought fleetingly to myself that it was uncanny how much he looked like Eric. It was 8:10 pm according to my watch, still pretty early in a vampire's evening. But he looked totally alert and ready for work. I wondered how old he was. When I mentioned as we got to the third floor landing that he really didn't have to do the bowing thing and that it made me uncomfortable he gave me an odd look but said nothing. He walked me around to the area where Eric's rooms were, knocked on the door and then merely nodded to me and left after putting down the bags.

Eric opened the door to the library room and smiled. I was so relieved he wasn't upset about the business with Tucker. He was dressed in a black robe and smelled like he had just showered. He took my bags hand and silently guided me back to the bedroom, which unlike the library, was totally dark. Putting down the luggage on the floor and the bag with food on the table, he quickly undressed me, scooped me up and lifted me onto his bed, took off his robe and crawled back into the bed and wrapped himself around me. I relaxed against him with a sigh. It was so still and dark. It sounded like it had started to rain outside. I closed my eyes and promptly fell asleep in his arms.

About 45 minutes later, Eric woke me up and said that we should get dressed because he had to work. He mentioned Bill would be arriving later. Before he finished dressing, I asked him if he wanted blood. He turned to me with a smile but no fangs. He seemed very pleased that I would offer.

"Later tonight. Just a taste perhaps. After all I had a fair amount yesterday. You ate well before you came? Can I have anything else prepared for you?"

I just shook my head. I thought about the number of vampires that probably lived in the compound and about how many people they might keep on hand living here to feed on. Those people downstairs for instance. The thought of it kind of creeped me out, in spite of knowing that it was just the simple reality. Any humans living here were, probably for the most part, food. The American Vampire League still maintained that vampires could live on True Blood, but I seriously doubted that any vampires did. I wondered if there was someone who prepared food for the donors who likely lived here downstairs. Seemed so, from Eric's offer. It was kind of chilling to think that on some level, I too, was food. I guess somehow Eric had managed to never make me feel that way.

Eric straightened out my blue blouse and kissed me. He was wearing a really nicely cut black suit with a pale green shirt and a dark tie with an asymmetric pattern. He started to tie his hair back as we spoke. I reached up and finished wrapping the band around his ponytail and then brushed the shoulders of his jacket smooth. He looked breathtakingly handsome to me.

"You look really nice. It's a very nice suit. Very well tailored. Do you always get so dressed up to see people now?" I asked. Eric had been the master of casual before. He smiled at the compliment.

"I'm talking business again this evening, so it makes a more serious impression. Some days it is more casual. Tonight is all business. Pam and Bill will keep you busy until I'm done. Probably not before 2 am, though. Do you have any clothes you wish to have washed or dry cleaned? You can put your things with mine while you're here visiting."

I shook my head no. Eric picked up his laundry basket and took it out of the room. I heard him open the door out to the hall and drop the basket outside. He came back into the room.

I brushed my hair and rifled through my cosmetics bag, looking for lipstick. When I put the bag down, Eric pounced on it and removed a bottle of medication. He looked at it and then said,

"What's this for?"

I glanced at it and frowned.

"They're sleeping pills. Sometimes I've had trouble sleeping and I was worried it could happen because I was back here," I said matter of factly.

He looked at me carefully and handed me back the bottle.

"Why do you have trouble sleeping?"

I just sort of stared at him for a second or two. Was he kidding?

"Um, first it was because of what happened, then because of what happened plus the depression about what happened, then all the anxiety about adjusting to my new life, the depression and the memories of what happened, and then all the shit I was reading from people's minds. Sometimes I still get bad episodes with Neave and Lochlan. I haven't in a while though."

Eric just stood looking at me but I felt this ache of sorrow from him, though he said nothing.

"I'm fine, Eric. Really, I'm fine."

"I thought these medications could be addictive."

"I haven't taken any in a long time. See the date on the bottle? And it's almost full." I handed the bottle back to him but he put it down without even really looking at it. "I just brought it in case being back in Louisiana caused... problems. I didn't even have any problems after you visited Virginia last month, so I guess things are finally getting better.

"You know, I thought of asking you, before you took off, if you would let me to glamour you into not remembering what happened so... intensely."

"I'd never do that," I said, looking him in the eye. He knew me better than that didn't he?

He looked down and nodded. "I thought you wouldn't. That's why I didn't ask. But I _wanted _to ask."

You didn't have much of a chance to ask, I thought to myself.

He was silent for a minute and then finally said,

"So it's what they did that was keeping you from sleeping?"

"In the beginning yes, it was just Neave and Lochlan and what they did to me. But then, over time it got to be other things too, like what they did to Tray or Breandan and his people killing Claudine and Clancy. And sometimes I'd have nightmares that they killed you, or that Bill died. It just got all rolled up into one. But I haven't had one in a long time. Probably not since Christmas. The holidays tend to be really hard, I guess because I feel more alone then or something. Rosie, you know my cat? she's a comfort. And usually when I travel I share with Alla, so if I have a really bad day, which means she had a bad one too, of course, it's not so likely to make me vulnerable because I have someone around. Alla's really great for that. She's very funny and can really help lift me when I feel low. It's hard though, because it's not like I could explain to anyone what happened. They, the FBI that is, wanted me to see a psychologist but it was impossible because of the telepathy. But I couldn't really talk about it anyway, after all. The telepathy was a really convenient excuse."

But suddenly I realized that I was talking about it all. Chattering almost. And Eric was sitting on the edge of the table, holding my hand while I did so. I realized that it had been three and half years and this was the most I had ever said to anyone about what had happened to me, other than perhaps my grandfather.

"You said you had to work and I'm keeping you," I said abruptly.

Eric stood up, nodding. He kissed my forehead but said nothing. I felt this faint, odd twisting of emotion and glanced over at him. He wasn't looking at me but I could see that what I'd said had really hit him somehow. But it was almost as if he wouldn't let me feel him or something. I didn't know what to make of it.

I took a deep breath as I bent down and grabbed the book out of my bag and unwound it from my scarf. Then I turned and smiled up at him.

"I was actually thinking I could just sit and read for a while. I'm almost a third of the way through the book. I'm afraid of Raskolnikov. At best, I'm telling myself that he's mentally ill. But I'm actually afraid everyone is like him in some way or another. It's a very scary book actually. It makes you think about how we justify our actions."

He smiled sadly as he looked down at me. But then the moment seemed to pass and his face lightened again.

He nodded. "That is the crux of why I like this book. The lies we tell ourselves and others to get what we want. Even the most evil person may lie to himself, and think he's doing right. Even in the face of much evidence to the contrary."

"Well, you certainly don' t have to sell me on the idea. Truth can be pretty relative in the world I work in."

"Truth is a little too relative everywhere, Lover."

He took my hand and we walked out into the library. Before he opened the door to go out, he turned to me and put his hand on my cheek and bent to kiss me gently. Then he said, "Time to be the big, mean vampire, Lover," he said with rueful smile. He straightened up and I actually felt this surge of focus in him.

We walked downstairs and he directed me toward another side of the building, in the general direction his office was in. We walked to the corner in the hall and he opened a door for me and ushered me inside. I found myself in a large office with butter yellow walls and elegant office furniture with rich tourmaline green and sapphire blue upholstery. The large window in the office was not blacked out and across a long sofa table in front of it were more than a dozen blooming orchids. Pam looked up from her computer and smiled at me. She was wearing a pink linen blouse and black linen slacks. She looked really lovely.

"What? I can finally have a Sookie moment? I am _so_ fortunate. Finally, my friend. Some individuals are just so disinclined to let me share your company. It isn't prudent to name names, however."

"She's in your care Pam, and I will be busy until at least 2 am. Keep her on this side. I'll make sure they send Bill over here," Eric said soberly, ignoring her comments.

"You are certain you will not need assistance?" Pam said looking up and for a moment looking quite serious.

I sat down in an armchair with my book and glanced from Eric to Pam and back to Eric. Assistance? Assistance with what? I thought it was just a business meeting?

"It will be fine. Cadel is back. With Andor, Markus and Stefan that makes five of us. By the way Pam, she _likes_ the Dostoyevsky. She _gets_ the Dostoyevsky." He said this with a rather sardonic look on his face.

"She's finally had too much of your blood or something. You've probably instilled thoughts about what a great writer _you_ think he is. Really, Sookie, you should be more cautious. Eric could glamour a rock," she said with a smile. "But I really thought you could resist him better. You're so adept at telling him no for all kinds of things, why not this?"

"Well, I'm not sure I'd say I _like_ Dostoyevsky. That's kind of like saying that I like being slapped. At least with _Crime and Punishment_."

Eric laughed, then leaned over and kissed the top of my head. "Later, Lover. Pam… try to be reasonable. Make an effort."

She nodded, smiling quaintly with fangs down.

After Eric left, I asked "What's the deal with needing assistance with the meeting? I thought it was a business meeting? You made it sound like a fight."

"Well, it probably will be a fight. It is a business meeting with several vampires who have resisted paying their taxes in Area 2. There is still a bit of resistance to the new regime and we may need more corrective action. But it will all work out. You will meet Cadel. I guess you saw Stefan, Andor and Markus last night. Between five of them, only a fool would think they could start a fight and stand much chance of winning it. And of course, Eric so enjoys wielding a stake or a sword again. Now, that I don't have to be his right hand anymore, I have to say I almost miss…" she stopped suddenly and cringed.

I'd gasped and stiffened up in the chair. I looked away. This was the topic of my newest nightmares, only I didn't think I'd dump that on Eric. At least I'd had only two in five weeks. It was more than enough though.

She rose and walked swiftly over to me.

"I'm so sorry, Sookie. I didn't mean to be so flippant. I shouldn't have made mention of it again. You couldn't have known what happened. But really, it was, as things go, perhaps less radical than what might have happened. Eric and Bill were lucky they were so valuable. Few of us could have gotten away with what they did. They were lucky Felipe didn't kill them."

I looked up at her, almost in disbelief. This was her idea of comforting me? "That's just making me feel so much better Pam. I can't thank you enough. Would you like to slap me or maybe just open a vein?"

She looked at me quizzically and then said,

"Eric said you were very worried that Felipe would have punished Maxwell and me for having gone with him, too. That you even felt bad about Clancy. You and Clancy didn't even like each other."

"Well, I like Clancy even _less_ being permanently dead, okay? He died because of me, Pam and how can I not feel bad about that? He didn't even want to be there fighting. I still feel bad about the whole thing. All of it. Everyone that died protecting me. People who got punished for protecting me. I'm glad you were okay. But I still just can't stand what happened. I really don't want to talk about it." My eyes started tearing up. At this rate my contact lenses were going to be unwearable soon.

Pam put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently.

"I still have some correspondence to work through. You can read while we await Bill. That book is just awful."

"But you can't dislike Sonya?" I said to Pam.

"Sonya would have made a great vampire," she replied with a smile, as she sat back down at her desk. "She's exactly the sort of person who ought to be turned. A good heart and a difficult life. She'd make a great vampire. She'd really appreciate the improvement in circumstances." She leaned around her computer monitor. "Not that I'm suggesting anything, mind you," she said with a chuckle. She started playing some classical music at low volume and I read as we awaited Bill's arrival.

Bill arrived around 11:30 pm and silently entered the room. I saw Pam look up and he smiled as soon as I turned to look at him. I rose and we each just stood looking at each other.

Pam asked Bill if he'd heard anything about what was going on over on 'the other side', a clear reference to Eric's little business meeting/fight.

"Well, according to Rasul two of them are already flaking." Bill saw the look on my face and laughed. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Not anyone you know."

Pam rose, and said,

"I'll leave you two here chatting and go see how things are. I really thought we should have started with a clean slate. There was simply nothing worth keeping in Baton Rouge."

Pam left and I walked over closer to Bill but not close enough to touch. He finally moved forward and kissed my cheek and patted my shoulder. Warm but slightly distant.

Finally, I said,

"I want to see it." I held out my hands.

His eyes softened. He placed his right hand in mine. I felt as if my whole face was imploding except for the tear that had already started streaking down my cheek. I swallowed hard and looked at his hand. He was shorter than Eric. About half a foot. So his hand was smaller. His skin looked less mottled than Eric's did. But I guessed that Bill as a human farmer had had much more sun exposure and skin that wasn't as pale as Eric's must have been as a human. Only something about his fingernails looked different. Not quite finished, I thought to myself. But subtle. Subtler than Eric's hand, with its pinker skin and nails and finger tips that were ever so slightly, to my eyes at least, shorter than those on the left hand.

I felt Bill's eyes on me and finally looked at him.

"There's really nothing that I can say Bill. No apologies or condolences or regrets that I can express that would convey how sorry I am. There are just no words." Tears ran down my cheeks then. I bit my lips hard as I looked at his hand.

"Sookie, it was the right thing to do. Never a question in my mind, no matter what the consequence. Eric told me how upset you were, but you never should doubt that I would have done it all over again. I'd have died to save you from those creatures.

I just nodded silently. He brushed the tears off my cheeks. And then motioned that we should sit down. I guessed I was looking kind of shaky.

"It's good to finally see you up close again, Sookie. You look well. You look like you healed very well. I am very glad.

"Eric told me that you were sometimes there in Alexandria for up to a week at a time. You never spoke to me, never tried come to see me? Why?"

"In the beginning because I was healing. It would have been difficult to explain the healing wound. It was not my place to contact you. You belong to someone else."

Belonged to someone else? Not his place? He'd risked his life for mine. I looked at him and shook my head.

"So Eric made you find me but told you to stay away from me?" In a way I guess it was better because I really might have taken off yet again, with the FBI's help. But still, it seemed... controlling to say the least.

"He told me you married him, Sookie. I _offered_ to look for you. His position was… tenuous, making it difficult for him to go look for you at that point. Plus, we didn't want to put you in more danger when I actually found you. He didn't have to tell me to stay away from you. It wasn't appropriate for me to contact you. You're his. He was the one that should speak to you about returning, not me."

"Did he tell you that we were married before or after you almost got yourself killed for keeps by saving my skin and losing your hand a result. Did he tell you before Bill?" I left out the part about my not knowing I was agreed to be married.

"It wouldn't have mattered. I'd have done the same thing either way, Sookie. It was one of the few things I've done right since I'd met you. It was my fault I couldn't win you back. Not yours. Not Eric's. I can admit it. I did everything wrong. Both in getting you and losing you. Can you actually think I wouldn't have gone with Niall to rescue you just because you loved someone else? Do you think that you could rescue me from Lorena after I betrayed your affection for me but I wouldn't do the same for you when you were free to be with whomever you pleased? Am I really sunk so low in your opinion, even now?"

I cringed a bit at that thought. "No. Of course not, Bill. Of course not."

We were silent for several minutes and then finally I said,

"So tell me about home, about Bon Temps. How are you, how is Sam. How is everyone?"

His face relaxed and he began to tell me all about the current goings on in Bon Temps. About Sam, Calvin and Tanya, who'd married two years ago, and Tara and JB who had two children now, a little girl and a newborn baby boy. Sam was well and seeing a were. The restaurant was doing well, Bill said. Caroline Bellefleur had finally passed and Portia was now mistress of the Bellefleur mansion, which looked better than ever thanks to Bill's covert assistance. Bud Dearborn had retired. Andy Bellefleur and Halleigh had a little boy. Holly and Hoyt were married.

"How is Jason?" I asked finally.

Bill looked down as if thinking carefully about how much to tell me.

"He is not well, Sookie. I think he was very affected by your abrupt departure. I realize that you may not be ready to see him on this trip but it might be a good idea to plan to see him the next time you come. I have assured him I know for a fact that you are still alive. That improved things a bit. But, of course, I could give him no real information. Sometimes I think he's basically an alcoholic, Sookie. He's an unhappy man. That's not your fault but I think he would be improved by seeing you, having contact with you. Maybe the next time you come, I can come down with Jason and with Sam, too. If that is alright with you, of course. Sam asked Eric directly if he knew where you were, and Eric finally told him that we did but wouldn't be able to provide him with any information. That was about nine months ago. I think he would like to see for himself that you are alright. Sam was very, very concerned when you disappeared. We all were, until I talked to that agent."

I hesitated. "Bill, did you really glamour her? Pam said you did. Is that how you found out where I was?"

"I did glamour her, yes I did. She didn't know exactly where you were, only in Virginia. There aren't a lot of FBI facilities in Virginia so it was just a matter of narrowing them down and passing around your photo. Although the change in your appearance slowed down my progress for a while, since I wasn't able to watch you directly myself during the day. I kept describing you as the curvy blonde and no one I hired ever saw a blonde who met the description. You lost weight, changed your hair. Even your eyes looked wrong. It was only by chance that I saw you myself in Falls Church, out at night with that Arab guy. I recognized you right away. But then I was worried I'd have to tell Eric that you were dating someone," he said shaking his head.

"You mean Ahmed? Yeah, he and I would go out for dinner sometimes after Alla had gone home for the night. She's married and would go home to Springfield every night. That must have been right before we left for Guantánamo. The unit was still based in Falls Church then."

Bill chuckled. "I followed him for a while before I caught on. He's extremely discreet. The same with the dance partner, though he was less discreet. I kept thinking that I'd have to give Eric bad news." He shook his head and looked at me with a sad smile.

I didn't say anything. Ahmed was very discreet. His business was his alone in my book. Even though Alla and I did girl stuff together, she had less time because of her family. Ahmed was probably the best friend I had in Virginia. And certainly my business was my own, as well.

Bill seemed curious about my lack of response. I shrugged at his questioning expression. We were quiet for a while. Then, completely out of the blue, Bill said,

"I never should have taken you to Fangtasia. Of course, he would have gotten you anyway. Sophie-Anne would still have been displaying you like the prized asset that you were but Eric still would have gotten you. You would have intrigued him no matter what." He was quiet again, as if mulling something over. Finally he said, "I should have told you the truth, Sookie. About Sophie-Anne and about Lorena. I didn't know how to make things right. I should have just told you the truth."

I looked away, remembering those days. I didn't really care about Bill's revelations of his mistakes. And I was not crazy about being a prized asset. It was ancient history and he'd never really been happy with me. There were things about my being human that Bill hadn't liked. It was odd actually, since he was so much closer, time-wise, to his having lived a human life. Yet Eric, so many centuries older, seemed not to be bothered by so many things about my being human that had bothered Bill. Bill hadn't really wanted me badly until I was long gone, I thought to myself. But he wasn't a bad man, and I was sure he was in a difficult position because of his secret job for Sophie-Anne and doing that job right under Eric's nose. Sophie-Anne had been clever working around Eric where I was concerned. I looked back and remembered elegant Sophie-Anne and her sad fate after a millennium of surviving. I had always liked her, in spite of her little mission for Bill. Done in by the Fellowship, and her own kind. I was glad Felipe was gone. Between what he'd done to Sophie-Anne, and to Eric, Bill and Maxwell, I had no qualms in thinking that he deserved to be permanently dead, at least in my mind. But I worried about Eric and how safe he was from a similar fate.

"Bill, Pam says that you do security stuff for Louisiana, right?"

He looked surprised at the question.

"Yes, I do. Why?"

"It isn't safe here. No matter what there is behind the scenes- magic, spies, whatever. It isn't safe. Really, you need to get Eric to do something to improve the security in the building, both at the entrances and within the office section. I'm sure he can afford to be more secure."

He looked puzzled.

"I got in with all kinds of silver weaponry. Bullets, knives. It isn't safe here. For any of them."

Bill nodded and said, "I'll look into it."

I wasn't convinced he would. Or that he'd be forceful enough about it to convince Eric.

We were interrupted from talking about the matter further by Pam, who came back in bristling, shutting the door behind her a little too loudly.

Bill looked up and said, "Problems?"

Pam glanced at me, but went ahead and said a bit obliquely,

"Eric is entirely too tolerant of dissent. He only killed three of them. Or at least Markus and Andor did. Andor has just gone to change his clothes. I really think Eric needs a heavier hand."

Bill, cautious because of my presence, said only,

"He may earn more loyalty this way. Give it a chance."

She took out a thick file from a drawer and slammed it down on her desk.

"Chance, my eye. I'd get rid of the whole lot of them. It's a waste of time."

Moments later, Eric waltzed in. His tie was loosened around his neck but he looked unruffled, otherwise. No bloodstains on the suit, either. He came to where I was sitting and bent to kiss me, then stood with his hand on my shoulder.

"Bill Compton, how are you? How do you find, Sookie?"

Bill had risen and bowed his head low.

"I am fine, thank you, Eric. Thank you for allowing me to visit."

Geeeeeeez, I thought to myself. Nice that he's _allowed _to visit me. Sometimes I really thought I didn't quite comprehend the amount of power that Eric held over those around him, even now when it should be obvious to me. I felt his hand on my shoulder, clearly signifying to whom I belonged. I realized however that even if Eric was stating that I was his, very unsubtly, I didn't feel like I was chattel, as if I was an asset. I reached up and put my hand on his hand.

With a quick glance at Pam, Bill said with a wink at Eric, "Pam is so wrong. I agree with you."

Pam started slamming stuff on her desk and said,

"I hope she makes it black next. And I hope she makes her eyes brown. It would be richly deserved."

I looked at Pam's petulant expression and just laughed. What was the deal with my hair and eyes? Eric gave her a dark look and she resumed typing furiously. Bill laughed at her.

Eric offered me his hand and then pulled me to my feet, directing me to sit with him on the couch. Bill sat down in the chair I'd left and the four of us chatted late into the night. He was heading back to Bon Temps the next evening at sunset, but we had a great time chatting and reminiscing. It was good to know that we had finally arrived at a point where Bill and I could be friends. I was glad of it. I owed him my life, so the least I could give him was my friendship.


	8. Chapter 7

VII.

"No. That is not going to work for me."

I looked up at him from my perch on the edge of the bed. "What do you mean?"

Eric stared down at my cranberry red lace bra and panty set and shook his head with disapproval.

"That," he said pointing his finger with an up and down swish at my midsection, "was unfair. You should have worn it yesterday when you arrived. But you put it on tonight and I have to talk to someone at 10 pm and now I'm going to end up being late. And it's all going to be your fault, Lover." He had a very mischievous look on his face.

"You could just take them off _later_, you know."

Later. Right… I couldn't even meet his eyes because I was almost quaking with silent laughter as I tried hurriedly to pull on my black denims. This was my _third_ attempt to get moving since sunset and it was now well after 9 pm. I'd barely gotten to go kiss Bill goodbye between the first and second attempt to get going for the evening. Saying goodbye in the hall, wearing a bathrobe three sizes too big was rather improper, I'd thought. It had certainly seemed rather heavy-handed on Eric's part by having me walk out into the hallway in his huge robe to say goodbye to Bill. (Just in case there had been any residual doubts about the nature of my relationship to Eric or just how _his_ I was?) And now I was seriously doubting I was getting out of the room this time either. First there was the problem getting out of the bed, then the problem getting out of the shower, and now? Problems with getting dressed? A hand belonging to the 'problem' grabbed my denims and prevented me from working them up beyond mid-thigh. I was beginning to think there was more to Eric's desire to have me there when he woke up than just being sure I didn't get all freaked out and run away again or to have the pleasure of waking up next to someone. Waking up with Eric appeared to be a long and involved, a very involved, process.

"No, these are coming off now, Lover. But those may be staying on for another few minutes so that I can fully enjoy them on you."

He pulled the jeans off my legs and tossed them over his shoulder with a chuckle. Then he started pulling off his shirt as he kicked off his shoes. It was a more casual night tonight. Black jeans and a red polo shirt. But the shirt was already off and was now somewhere in the vicinity of my jeans. He picked me up from the edge of the bed and after kissing me roughly, playfully tossed me into the middle of the bed. He left the remainder of his clothes on the floor and climbed onto the bed after me, with an evil grin and fangs that would have been positively frightening if I didn't know who they were attached to. I burst out laughing and tried to slip off the bed but he caught my right ankle and dragged me, while I laughed, along the smooth silk comforter back toward him.

"No escape, Agent Gordon. I'm thinking surrender is your best option here."

"Well, I'm just not the surrendering type."

"Oh _really_?" An eyebrow raised with doubt. It looked like he thought that was a direct challenge. He pulled my legs around his waist and pulled my hips upward then bent forward and kissed my abdomen. And then he tickled me until I thought I would never catch my breath. He was laughing almost as much as I was, though. He played with the lace straps on my bra as he kissed me and then flipped me over, unhooked the bra and started kissing the space in between my shoulder blades while his hands cupped and played with my breasts. "Any progress on surrendering?" he murmured as I gasped with pleasure. The bra disappeared just like the jeans had.

"MmmNnnnn," I murmered back, as I shook my head 'no' and then I couldn't stop laughing, in anticipation of who knows what he was planning next.

"So damn stubborn," was the chuckling reply as he moved lower down my back kissing me. "I'm thinking about what to say about being late… Luckily, I really don't have to provide much explanation for such things anymore. Everyone has to wait for _me_ now. But still, it should be on your conscience, since she's _your_ friend."

"What do you mean? You're meeting with Amelia?" I kind of froze.

"She's meeting with me about warding all our other properties and businesses. The wards on this building seem to be a success. We're going to expand use of Amelia's services. But, Lover, now she's going to have to wait. And I may have to tell her why we're so late. That it was all your fault. Maybe even hint at details of why it was your fault," he said playfully, running his finger under the edge of my hipster panty well below the small of my back.

"I'm sure Amelia is clever enough to figure out why we're late, Eric. Trust me," I said shivering.

I was apprehensive about seeing her. It was a bit of a mood killer, actually. But somehow, Eric just had a special talent for distracting me. He slid his arm under my hips and lifted me up higher and started removing my panties.

"Does the word _insatiable_ have your picture next to it in the Illustrated Webster's Dictionary, Eric?"

He paused for a moment and replied,

"No. I thought you knew? It has a scandalous photo of the _two_ of us. I'm surprised you haven't seen it yet. You had concerns about certain consequences for such racy photos, as I recall. It appears you were so right to worry."

Then he literally bit my ass.

Afterwards, while I was lying there with my head on his shoulder, trying to remember which direction I thought I'd seen my panties fly, Eric murmured,

"Lover, would you please check out of the hotel? We should stay together while you're here. Just tell your boss you're staying here. That agent can safely come here to check on you. We will be gracious with her as your guest. Or you can see her outside the compound at night. I'll send Rasul and Cadel with you but they can give you space. Or if you prefer in the afternoon, with Tucker's people. I want you here, with me. There's no reason for the hotel for the daytime when you could rest here and it's wasting your hard-earned money."

I sighed. The truth was that if I went with how I was feeling right now, and not with the nagging voices in my head, I'd check out of the hotel and stay with Eric. But part of me wanted the safety of at least the _idea_ of that room. Eric seemed to sense my hesitation.

"How about I continue to pay for the room, but you stay here."

"No. No, absolutely not, Eric. That's just wrong. I couldn't do that." I was not having him pay for my vacation, and especially not for my empty room. But then I sighed heavily. I really wanted to stay with Eric. I'd liked waking up next to him. That was something I'd had precious little of in my life. Maybe I should just stop fighting what I felt, and what he wanted, and just try it. It wasn't like I was anticipating that we were going to abruptly stop getting along or anything. The worst that could happen would be that I'd have to get another room. Actually, no, the worst that could happen would be that I would be sorry I hadn't spent more time with him when I went back home to Alexandria. I'd already spent enough time being sorry I hadn't stayed with Eric when he last offered. But of course, it all came at a price. How much worse would it feel when I left and went back to my everyday life?

"Stay with me, Lover," he said softly in my ear. "I like waking next to you. Stay, min älskade... my Lover.

My heart literally fluttered. For once, I ignored the voice in my head, and went with my heart.

"Okay," I said quietly. I felt an internal quaver as I said, "I'll check out of the hotel and stay here with you."

I felt a swell of warmth from him. Then I immediately felt a moment of panic. I was giving in. Giving in to _Eric_. Giving in to my _feelings_. My heart promptly started pounding. He raised himself onto his elbow in the bed and turned to look at me, surprised.

"You're afraid, Lover," he whispered to me, looking puzzled. He stroked his hand through my hair. "What are you so afraid of?"

My eyes suddenly just brimmed with tears. What _was_ I so afraid of?

"I don't know. I just…" I breathed in deeply. "Just forget it, Eric. I'm fine." I just closed my eyes and couldn't look at him. How badly had it hurt when Bill left me for Lorena? But the real issue was how badly had it hurt when Bill's interest appeared to wane even before Lorena. And I hadn't really even been sure I loved Bill at the time. But I was very sure I loved Eric. I was not sure at all that he felt the same, no matter what he said. And I had already had a taste of what it was like when he had left to go back to his life after I had taken care of him when he had been cursed by Hallow. Back then I hadn't understood that I was falling in love with him. I'd been unhappy, when he'd left and remembered nothing of those days. And then there was the past three long years of not even looking at another person because there was simply no point. In another week and a half I'd go back to my regular life and yes, it would be much, much worse this time. I was setting myself up for being really unhappy. I didn't want to be unhappy. My heart just pounded.

"You're really afraid of staying here with me, aren't you?" he said. "But why?"

I still had my eyes closed and could hardly breathe because my heart and my head were in such turmoil. Eric put his cool hand on my sternum and was just silent, for several minutes, his thumb gently stroking my chest. Finally he said,

"I never got to choose to be with someone I loved. I never had someone choose to be with me because they loved me. When I was human I married my brother's wife when he died. I liked her. But I didn't love her, at least not in the beginning. For sure, never _in_ love with her. And we had no choice in the matter. It was an alliance of families. When Aude died, I looked around for the most practical match. That was right before I was turned. Then in all this time, after I was free from my sire, I chose… but not for love. And no one ever really chose to be with me because they couldn't really choose. When you have almost total control over someone, what kind of choice can she make?"

I lay there with my eyes still closed and said,

"So you 'love me' basically because you can't glamour me?" It was a hollow sense of vindication that Eric just liked that part of me because of the way it affected him. Because I was a challenge and it was flattering to him. But then it wasn't really love that he felt for me at all. No, he didn't really love me, I told myself. Not really.

"No. Well, maybe that is a part of it, yes, but really… No. I love you because you are smart, and you are brave. You have a real sense of honor, of loyalty and you are very brave. I enjoy your humor. Your feistiness. You are beautiful, but many women are beautiful. Beauty does not last, unless you are turned, but even then it is… different, maybe harder edged. Character lasts no matter what. You have character. I like you and that has made it easy to love you. I like few people. But I do also like it that you cannot be glamoured. That is true. If you are with me, it is because you choose to be with me. It is a compliment to have someone truly choose to be with you. But it is more than that. You are interesting and I have never known anyone quite like you. The more I have made you mine, the more I wanted you. I enjoy you. I love you. I _want_ to be with you." He paused, then said quietly, "So I do not understand why you are afraid or how it is that you think I will hurt you."

I wanted to get away from this conversation.

"We should really get up Eric. It's probably after 10. We'll be really late."

"No. We should stay here and work this out now. I asked you long ago if you had a tendency to walk away when things get rocky and I've seen that answer, although I really can't hold leaving Louisiana against you considering what had happened to you. There are other times when you have shown more loyalty and kindness than I could ever have reasonably expected. You have stuck by me many, many times. But you've also wanted to run away from every serious conversation I've ever tried to have with you about us. That habit has caused a lot of problems and I really think we're not going to continue with it." His hand was still on my chest, cool and firm, making it very, very clear that I was not getting up out of this bed. "So tell me, Lover, what is it that you're really afraid of?"

"I told you I don't know," I said with an irritated edge that I couldn't help.

"Sookie, I can tell you do know. What is it? I insist that you tell me what the problem is. Whatever it is. Even if you think it will offend me."

I opened my eyes and saw that he was right above me, eyes glowing and his face looking cool and serious. I looked away, wanting psychological space but he reached up and turned my face back toward him and held it there firmly in his hand so that I could only escape his gaze by closing my eyes or shifting them away from him.

"You're being foolish, Sookie. This is beyond being stubborn. You said the other day that you had thought many times about how things might have been different if you had come to stay with me in Shreveport when Breandan's people were after you. What if you had? What if you had told me you were afraid and you wanted me to protect you? What if you had really talked to me? What if you trusted me? _What if, now, you actually tried to make this work?_"

I swallowed hard and cast my eyes downward, not meeting his.

"What would you have done if I was with someone else when Bill found me in Alexandria, Eric?"

He jutted his chin out slightly and paused a moment then said,

"If I thought you were happy, I would have left you alone."

"How could you even have known I was happy without talking to me? The bond?"

"The question is pointless. I knew you were not with anyone. Because of the neighbor and because of what Bill learned. And yes, I could feel you were not with anyone because of the bond. I could feel you. I watched you. After Bill had found you, one night I came to Virginia and I watched you through the windows of your apartment. You were so alone. _Felt_ so alone. I went away and thought carefully about what to do. I tried to prevent you from feeling me then, and when I returned, in May. You never trusted the bond. Which is ironic, since if you can't read my mind, it was the surest way to know how I felt about you. But you have always thought it was artificial. Some vampire magic trick. Or just, in general, a trick. You have such serious trust issues, Lover."

"Are you saying you do think it's my fault that I was kidnapped and tortured because I wouldn't go stay with you?" I said crossing back to what he had said moments before.

"No. Of _course_ not. It was your grandfather's fault for not making sure that I knew how serious the situation was when he knew you were mine. And ultimately his fault for not protecting you better himself. Why he left you alone in that house I will never understand. He could have left Dillon with you. Or Claude. He could have moved you elsewhere to safeguard you. It was my fault for not insisting you stay with me, although I did not want to do anything to coerce you since you were so resistant to almost anything I suggested. It was, perhaps, my fault for not having told you then, that night I was with you, that I loved you. Clearly. _In English_. Perhaps then you would have come with me. But I wanted you to say you loved me and you would not admit it, even though I knew you did. You, with your _appreciation_," he said acidly. He shook his head and snorted. "I thought perhaps you hated loving me. You were resentful of me, of the bond. You were so cold. So defensive that night. I was confused by your manner, which was so different from what I had remembered. I thought we would have time to work things out, but everything fell apart. Well, we are two proud and stubborn people and we have paid a heavy price for our pride and stubbornness. You especially so. And then you threw away almost everything. What if I hadn't found you? Hmm? What then, Lover? Were you so happy on your own, totally alone? You were merely getting by. Only half alive inside, so shut down to your emotions. And if you were really honest, you would admit it. Neither one of us has been happy with our choices made in those days. So let's work it out now, once and for all."

I was just silent.

"Tell me, Lover. Tell me what you are afraid of or what it is that bothers you. What is the problem?"

His hand still held my face. His eyes seemed to rivet mine to his. I felt him almost trying to mentally pull it out of me. I looked up at him and ground my teeth softly as he continued pulling on my mind, even though he knew I hated that and that it really wouldn't work. He was just showing me that he wouldn't let it drop. Finally, I just gave in and said,

"Bill got bored with me, Eric. He was already bored well before he returned to Lorena. You're so exotic and old. You've already seen everything there is to see. And I see myself as just an amusement to you. A challenge and an amusement. I don't even have to worry about the growing old part or any of the rational concerns of such a relationship if it were real. You say you love me. But you'll get tired of me soon enough. I just don't see any chance, really any chance at all, that this will end happily. At least not for me. I meant what I said the other day. I'll just end up brokenhearted. I never loved Bill. At least not the way I love you. You want to talk about someone who's bound becoming a stupid fucking Renfield? Well, I don't even need the bond. I already remember how bad I felt _before_ the bond when you left. There'll be nothing left of me if I let myself stay with you. I was ruined for humans long before I met any of you because of my telepathy. But loving you will just ruin me for everyone and everything else when it's over. It will just bleed the colors and the life away from me. I already have three years of proof that I'll end up totally alone and it will be so much worse if I stay for any extended time with you. I don't even want to know how long this time is going to leave me sad when I go home. And part of me just _hates_ myself for coming here at all, because I really don't want to be unhappy. But that's exactly what I think I'm going to be."

He waited to see if I was done. When I said no more, he nodded his head, looking at me with a faint smile. He kissed me gently. He released his hold on my face, stroking my cheek as he did so, and sat up.

"This is better," he said, still nodding. "_This_ I can deal with." His smile broadened.

He bounced off the bed and tossed me my panties and then walked around the bed to hand me my bra and jeans. He picked up his clothes from the floor and started dressing. Then he pulled me to the edge of the bed and turned me around to hook my bra. He knew I used the middle hook on this bra not the inner one the way I did on the other one, I noticed, surprised. He brushed aside my hair and kissed the nape of my neck. Then he handed me the top I had left on top of my bag. I pulled it over my head and then pulled on my jeans as I jumped down from the bed. He was already dressed again. I slipped on my flats. I walked around the bed and brushed quickly through my hair as I glanced at my makeup in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. It wasn't looking so fresh anymore but I looked okay and fairly unsmudged. Thank goodness I hadn't used mascara. Eric stood next to me and took my brush from my hand and brushed through his hair briefly. Finally, I couldn't resist any longer. I turned to look at him.

"So how are you planning to 'deal' with it?"

He turned to me with a twitching smile.

"I am going to prove you spectacularly wrong. And Lover, I am going to marry you legally. I know what want. I will not change my mind. But I will change yours. If I don't talk you into it now, I will the next time, or the time after that. You _will_ believe me. If I waited three years just to see you again, you ought to have a better estimate of my determination. But no matter. You _will_ see. Just try not to lose us too much more time together. That would be something you really should regret. Shall we? We're really approaching embarrassingly late. It's almost 11 pm. On the bright side, all of your worries about seeing Amelia ought to look like, what is the expression… small potatoes? after this little discussion, right?" He winked at me.

He seemed pretty happy as we walked out into his library. Just before we got to the door to go out into the hall, he swooped down and picked me up. He kissed me then said, with a merry smile,

"So delightfully wrong."

He kissed me again. Then he laughed, put me back down on my feet and took up my hand as we went downstairs to see Amelia.

Amelia and Pam were chatting in Pam's office while they watered and tended to Pam's orchids near the window that was no longer blacked out. As we entered they turned to look at us, then back to each other and erupted into laughter.

"We were thinking of calling for help soon. It's good to see that you are both still viable," said Pam wryly.

Amelia stood looking at me. She still looked the same, with her short, chestnut hair, bright blue eyes and tall, graceful frame. But she looked at me and shook her head.

"I really might not have recognized you. Pam's right."

I stood there for a moment feeling awkward and then she strode across the room and hugged me.

I met her eyes and said,

"I'm glad to see you, Amelia."

Then I had to turn my face away. All I could see in my mind's eye was Tray as he died. Protecting me, fighting because of me. Someone she'd grown to love, that good man, dead because of me. I still felt so guilty about it all.

Amelia stroked my arm gently and said, "I'm really glad to see you, too. I've missed you." Her eyes teared up and then she hugged me again.

"My goodness, now they are both leaking. Honestly, it's enough having Sookie crying all the time, but if you're going to start Amelia, I may actually have to send someone out to purchase tissues, which is simply ridiculous for a vampire's office. You both are so much trouble."

Pam walked over and took Eric's arm and led him out of the office, murmuring "I really can't fathom the need for such emotional displays but let's leave them to it for a while. Stefan has business for you and that Area 2 moron Henderson is back with apologies, fear and trembling."

Amelia and I sat down on Pam's couch and had a heart to heart talk. About everything that had happened that awful night three and a half years before and all the things we couldn't say then. About broken hearts and spirits and friendship that survives great heartache. We were still friends. She had never really blamed me for Tray's death as I had blamed, and still blamed, myself. She told me that he had wanted to protect me. That he had died a good death, and that in spite of her immense sorrow over it, that he would have been proud to die fighting for someone he held in high regard. I tried to fight the feeling that I was held in far higher regard by everyone than I deserved to be. I looked back on that time and did not like myself. I didn't like the choices I had made and the consequences of those choices. I would always feel that I had put Tray in harm's way without his fully understanding what he had agreed to do in guarding me. And that I should have forced him to see Dr. Ludwig for treatment of his poisoning. There were so many things I felt I should have done differently about those days. Amelia told me that I needed to let it go. As I sat there holding her hand, I suddenly realized that after my conversation with Eric the previous night, in which I talked about Tray, that he must have asked for her to come to meet with him in part so that she and I would talk, as well. Talking to her, talking about that time, just seemed to release something in me. I still felt terrible about Tray's death, but it felt less sharp.

After an hour we went looking for Eric and Pam. Amelia stayed talking business with Eric while Pam and I sat discussing books, music, fashion. As if she could see that I was very on the edge emotionally, Pam tried to cheer me up in her very dry humored way. She got me to laugh a bit in the end with her cutting comments about the various vampire reality TV style shows.

When Amelia left around 3 am, Eric sent an escort with her. We'd made plans to get together after I'd seen Nnenna Freelon the following night together with Pam and Eric. She was eager to have me meet her beau, Bertram. Pam said she'd join us because she was curious to meet him, too.

After Amelia left I sat reading in Eric's office while he worked. I started sensing that he was increasingly edgy about something. Finally, around 4 am, he told me I really should go check out of my hotel since it would be dawn in less than two hours. The way he sat there, waiting for my response, he looked as if he was poised for an argument, if necessary. I bit my lip. I had told him I'd stay here. I reminded myself that at the moment I'd agreed, I'd felt that it would make me happy to stay with Eric. It would be hard to take back my agreement to leave the hotel without hurting his feelings I realized.

Eric sent Stefan with me to the hotel. The hotel staff looked at me pretty oddly about my checking out, days early, at 4:30 am in the morning, in the company of the tall vampire, but asked few questions. Somehow, I managed to avoid any cancellation charges. Stefan dealt with most of it and had a very wry look on his face as we left. I got the definite feeling that he had glamoured the desk clerk into something but when I asked he just chuckled and took all my bags.

As we walked I asked Stefan where he was from. He was Swedish, he told me, and was about 300 years old. He had known Eric since the early 1700's and had been pleased to come and work for him. It was interesting to me that Eric appeared to have gathered together a collection of vampires who were largely, until very recently, European. I knew that Markus, Cadel and Andor had all recently come from Europe, as well. I commented that it surprised me that so many European vampires would want to move to Louisiana. He quipped that America was famous for fast food. Dining in Europe was much more formal. I laughed and asked him if that meant Americans were 'easy'. He turned to me laughing out loud and nodded with a playful grin, saying that I got his humor. Then he said that he was glad for the chance to work in the US. He enjoyed working for Eric and it was putting his skills to better use since the job situation in Europe was always a frustration for vampires. There was a lot of unemployment in Europe he said, and few guaranteed rights for vampires in the European Union. He said Scandinavia was more liberal but that it was really difficult to live there year round because of the short nights in the summer. Moving to the US, and the South, was ideal to him. Now that I was a bit more used to Stefan I could see why Eric probably liked him. Stefan had a sense of humor much like Eric's, and he clearly had a practical, business-oriented mind. I had an odd feeling from him, though, as if there was something more to it all. While he was considerably friendlier to me now, he still seemed reserved. I understood that and didn't ask more.

After we got back to the compound I sat in Eric's office again and sent Sara Weiss a text message telling her I had shifted accommodations and that she could come and check on me in the evening if she wished or that I could go out to meet with her and that I was going to see Nnenna Freelon at 9:30 pm the following evening. I told her if she was worried that she should run it by Manny.

Eric was low-key about my staying with him. I guess he could sense that the less fuss he made, the calmer I'd be about it. He told me that he had notified Bennett Tucker that the protection he'd arranged was being switched to a sort of on call status. He didn't say much else but I'd felt a pleased warmth from him when Stefan told him he'd left my bags outside Eric's rooms and then departed for the night. I suddenly kind of wondered what the other vampires had thought that I _wasn't_ staying with him before. I wasn't going to ask, though. Pam came in discussed the plans for the following night. She was in rare form after finding out that I was now officially staying in the compound. Eric glared at her when she made a very ribald remark about the benefits of having the feisty redhead locked into his bedroom at long last. She promptly said goodnight and left but made a funny face at me when he wasn't looking. I continued to read while Eric continued to work.

In bed later, I leaned back against his chest as he wrapped himself around me. It was already close to dawn when we'd come back up to the room and I could hardly even keep my eyes open. His arm hung heavily across my side and his hand rested on my arm. We were quiet for a while and then I broke the silence.

"What did you think I was going to tell you earlier tonight?" I murmured.

"That you wanted children. That you hated the fact that I'm a vampire. Something that I couldn't fix. More about how you hate the bond. Or that you hate the all political bullshit in my life."

I chuckled softly. "That I hated the fact that you're a vampire? You have got to be kidding, Eric. It would be a little late for _that_ one, wouldn't it?"

"Considering all the bullshit I have heard come out of your lovely mouth about the bond, frankly, nothing would have surprised me. If I had more sense, I'd be insulted by your doubting my feelings for you, considering our history. But luckily for you I'm not taking it personally. It says volumes about what you've been through is the way I'm looking at that one," he murmured. Then he paused and said quietly, "Maybe I was afraid you would never forgive me for not having been able to rescue you from the fairies."

I was silent for a while and then said,

"You did what you could do, Eric. You paid a terrible price for what you _were_ able to do, too. What happened to me was not your fault. You protected me plenty of other times. I guess... It took a while to understand things. I won't lie and say that I wasn't blaming you back then for somehow having let me down or something. But it was unfair. Totally unfair. Then I switched to blaming myself for so many things. I guess that one isn't quite right either. But you had offered to protect me by having me stay with you. I didn't want what you offered because I wasn't ready to admit I needed more protection, or what it implied about you and me. Anyway, I do hate the politics. I really do. It frightens me. But that's just you. It's who you are." I was silent for a while and then said, "So my thinking that you're going to get bored with me and totally break my heart is just an easy fix to you?"

He kissed the back of my head then I felt him start to go limp in that odd way before he stiffened up a bit.

"Ja… min älskade… du har så fel..." he murmured softly. And then he was gone.

What he was saying? Was it Swedish? Norse? Part of it I recognized from earlier... My Lover... His arm was heavy around me. For some reason, in spite of my qualms about staying with him, in spite of my fears about what I would feel like when I left in a week and a half, I felt happy. Maybe I needed my head examined. After more than three years on my own, in only five weeks time I had gotten myself in deeper than I'd ever been with Eric. It was like he was an unstoppable force. And yet I was happy. Lying here, basically almost locked into his arms. And if I was honest with myself, when Eric was literally out cold as he right now, the happiness I felt was mine alone. When he was dead, or resting, or however you wanted to consider it, I couldn't feel anything from him. What I felt was really just what _I_ felt, what I felt for him. No bond and I was still happy.

I thought about his text message from the day before. Getting a grip on me, indeed, I thought to myself. He'd gotten what he'd wanted with his grip on me. Me, staying here, with him. What else did Eric want? I wondered. I thought about what he had said earlier that night. That I was so wrong. Was I? One part of me wanted to trust his words, his reassurance. The other part, well... I was too sleepy to think or worry about any of it.

I finally fell asleep and didn't wake up until a bit after 4 pm in the afternoon. The room was pitch black, but Eric had moved a lamp to the nightstand on my side of the bed so I could turn on the light when I awoke, to make it easier to move around the room. In spite of the fact that he had 'fallen asleep' on his side, with his arm around me, I guess I had managed to move out from under his arm while I slept. He wasn't really rigid or anything. I picked up his hand and looked at it. The ends of his long fingers, and his fingernails, looked almost as they should be. The skin tone had evened out a bit more, too. I could still see the line demarking old skin from new skin but it was much less distinct than it had been even five weeks ago. But I guess it was pretty hard to tell now what had happened unless you really knew. I didn't feel like I was any closer to getting over what had happened to him because of me, though. I looked at his face and combed my fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his face. His skin was so white, and cool to the touch. I kissed him, and got up out of the bed. I put on my pajamas and then, after gauging the distance, turned off the light and went out into the library.

I had some fruit, checked my email, called my answering machine and talked to Rosie by leaving a message. I made plans to see Sara at 9 pm, read for a while and then spent some time organizing the poetry shelves in Eric's library. At 7:30 pm, I went back into the bedroom, stumbled to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth. Then I climbed back into bed, snuggled up to Eric and dozed until sunset.


	9. Chapter 8

A/N- Many thanks to the lovely Miravisu for the Swedish translations. :-)

* * *

**VIII.**

Nnenna Freelon was a wonderful live performer. Pam had never heard her before and really enjoyed it. We split up after hearing Freelon perform because Eric had to go back to meet with people from Lafayette. Stefan, Markus and various other bodyguards who'd come out for the evening stayed with him, but Rasul and Pam stayed with me, along with Andor and Cadel. We were meeting up with Amelia and her man, Bertram, at The Dungeon at 1 am. We got there early and the vampires all had True Blood while I had a gin and tonic. Pam was having a lot of fun comparing The Dungeon to Fangtasia, which Eric and Pam still owned and from which Sheriff Maxwell operated his Area 5 base. The Dungeon was substantially more tourist oriented and the tourists appeared quite taken with staring at the four vampires in my company. Cadel, who was Welsh, was particularly playful, hissing and snarling in full fang at people coming near the table to a chorus of 'Oooohs' and 'Aaaaah' and jumpy reactions. Then he'd burst into laughter if he got someone really scared. He had deep dimples, which looked very amusing in combination with long, sharp fangs.

After more than a day in the total quiet of the Eric's compound, the rush of minds, first in Preservation Hall, and now in The Dungeon was really something. Even twenty-four to thirty six hours away required an adjustment in my ability to filter things out. The only humans I'd been around since spending the past two days with Eric were Amelia and Sara Weiss, who'd come to check on me right before the jazz performance. But I decided in the end that it was actually as if I felt a bit refreshed and more energetic for having had the break. Other than time spent alone in my apartment, where really, I cold potentially still pick up neighbors thoughts, I hadn't had a real break from the thoughts and minds of others for years.

While we sat in our little booth area I became aware of a really strong and anxious female mind and glanced over at the bar, at a woman who appeared to be in her early twenties. She was upset because her friend might not be able to come after all. She was thinking about leaving because she felt nervous being in the bar alone. That feeling was borne out when a former boyfriend of hers came into the club started giving her menacing looks. She was afraid of him. Now that she had seen him though, she seemed afraid to leave because she was worried he'd follow her out. She was sitting at the bar waiting for him to get distracted so she could make her exit. I'd noted that there were at least three police officers around the club, along with two FBI agents, so I figured she was safe and went back to listening to Pam and Andor arguing about jazz. Andor seemed to speak with an accent similar to Eric's, but more obvious, I guess because he hadn't lived here very long. I really wondered where he was from. He wasn't as talkative as Cadel or Stefan. Andor seemed to spend a lot of time just watching others and taking everything in.

Ten minutes passed and the ex-boyfriend had walked over to the woman at the bar and soon she was on the verge of tears, telling him to just leave her alone. The guy was a serious creep in my book. He was thinking of ways to try to make her feel bad, including her weight, her occasional stuttering and even the recent death of her father, with whom she'd had a strained relationship. He was still angry because she had broken up with him. She definitely knew where to draw the line for her mental health by getting rid of this guy, I thought to myself. When the guy refused to leave her alone the third time she asked and she started crying, I found myself muttering under my breath,

"Fucking asshole…" which briefly caught Pam's attention.

But then the guy grabbed a hold of the woman's arm and she was really scared. That was when I saw that he'd hit her before. In fact, he'd beaten her up once. Badly enough so that she had missed her college classes, embarrassed to go out with bruises. All the other people at the bar were ignoring the escalating problem.

I bounced out of my seat without a word of explanation to the others and walked over to them and said,

"Samantha, I'm so sorry I was late. Who's this guy? He looks familiar. Why are you crying, sweetie? Are you okay?" all with my very best Louisiana drawl.

The creep looked at me and focused mainly on my breasts. He was really so offensive. Samantha, who had never seen me before in her life, looked at me as if I was her long lost guardian angel.

"He's just leaving," she said, stuttering slightly from both stress and, as far as I was concerned, legitimate fear. He was thinking about trying to get her out of the club and 'show her a good time' after all. The guy was really a piece of work.

"Well, good. Because if he made you cry, I really think he _should_ leave." I stared at him with my arms crossed.

"The only person who's leaving is you, bitch," he snarled. Then he grabbed my uppermost arm to push me back and away from her, but he grabbed it hard. Hard enough to probably leave marks.

I looked down at his hand and said in a low but very clear voice,

"Take your hand off me. Right now."

He didn't remove his hand or lessen his grip, so I swept my arm upward. He pretty much snarled at me and took a swing at slapping me. What the hell would he do in private if this was his _public_ persona? Well, I guess I'd already seen that in her memories. Anyway, it was his second and final mistake. This was the stuff of my Krav Maga trainer Uri's dreams. I managed to pretty much dodge his open handed hit although he still just caught my cheekbone. It stung but I was far too pissed off to care. I jabbed him in the throat, kneed him in the groin and then grabbed his wrist and spun him to the side as I twisted his arm up behind him and kicked his knees out from under him. He was down in much less than five seconds. When he looked up, all the other people at the bar had moved away while four snarling vampires and two FBI agents with handguns drawn were staring down at him. Samantha looked like she didn't know whether to be freaked out or applaud. She seemed to be coming down on the applause side, clasping her hands together and thinking that he'd had it coming for years.

"Who the fuck are you?" he said in a hoarse and painful voice. The throat jab was really a painful hit. You had to be careful with that one because you could really harm someone with it.

"Someone who doesn't appreciate being hit. Like most of the rest of the people I know, including Samantha. I'm an FBI agent. And so are they," I said pointing to the two guys with the guns.

I looked over at the two agents, one of whom looked vaguely familiar from Sara's office. I had the idea that his name was Norm. Yeah, it was Norm, I saw, reading him. He was quite amused that I'd taken the guy down so fast. He remembered me from several years back when I had been pretty fragile, at least in his eyes.

"Norm, can you guys deal with this? I'm on vacation. Samantha, why don't you come sit with me for a while. Norm, the guy watching, over there in the blue shirt, is NOLA PD. The guy hit me," I pointed to my cheek, "so maybe I'm gonna think about charges." I looked down at the creep, Howie? and read him carefully. "You know, I really think he needs a drug test. I'm thinking he's under the influence of something. Who the heck hits a woman in a public place with tons of witnesses? He's on something. You can give them my contact info," I said, nodding to the police officer who was walking our way.

Norm, who obviously seemed in the know from Sara, just nodded without asking any questions about how I knew what I knew and signaled that I could let the guy go. I released him, and he promptly toppled over with a moan. I glanced at him for a minute wondering if maybe I'd hit him, or twisted his arm, a little too hard. After all, I'd been having doses of Eric's blood and could be stronger than I realized. He was rubbing his wrist. It didn't look too bad, since he could move it gingerly and I didn't see any bruising. Well, I thought to myself, he hit me first. Only a fool in a town like this would hit a stranger. What if I had been a Were or were and _really_ lost my temper?

Samantha looked apprehensive as I walked back to our table and was followed by Pam, Rasul and Andor. Cadel waited near her and held out his arm as if to direct her. Pam was all a-fuss over my cheek. It tingled a bit but really wasn't that bad. My arm was little tender, though.

"Eric is going to kill us. Absolutely _kill _us. We are going to be in _so_ much trouble. Honestly, Sookie" she hissed in a very low voice so it was not likely that anyone would hear my real name, "Why the hell did you have to pick a fight with him yourself? Couldn't you have had one of us go over and set him straight? What were you thinking?" She stood over me looking at my cheek and pressing around on it as if to make sure nothing was broken or something.

"He just slapped me. It's not like he punched me or anything. One of you would have scared her too, and she would have left with him and he's beaten her up before. I was thinking that getting him to leave alone was a better bet, Pam. Ow… It's fine. Geez Louise, Pam, cut it out! _You're _going to bruise it if you keep poking it." I didn't want to tell her that what really hurt was my arm, where he had grabbed it. I was pretty sure it was bruised.

Samantha sat down diffidently in a chair that Cadel had pulled up for her next to me.

"Lady, I don't know who you are, but thanks," she said to me.

"You're welcome. You should really avoid him. He's a very nasty man, Samantha."

Rasul was just taking the whole thing in with sparkling eyes and then he finally burst into laughter. "He was what? 6' 2"? You had him on the floor whining like girl in the blink of an eye. It was a _riot_. It's good to know that at least with humans you can take good care of yourself, Sasha."

Pam was indignant. "Eric is _not_ going to think it's a riot, Rasul. Eric is going to be furious."

"Eric needs to lighten up, Pam. Nothing is going to happen to her and that doesn't even look as if it will bruise if you leave it alone." He snapped his fingers for a barmaid and asked for a glass of ice water and napkins. "Good thing for him you didn't have your gun, Sasha," he said with a chuckle and a wink.

I crossed my left leg over my right knee and pulled up my pants leg and showed him my subcompact G26 on my lower calf.

"I _have_ to wear a weapon. I'm required to. But why on earth would you think I'd shoot him, Rasul? He was unarmed. Especially, if I can have him the floor 'like a girl' as you put it, it would be excessive force. He was just a bully. It was the perfect Krav Maga-lite scenario. He had no weapon. I actually train to incapacitate a person _with_ a weapon. So this was easy."

Rasul laughed again and smiled at me.

"You're really my favorite human, Sasha. Eric was way ahead of the curve, as usual, finding you. You're always an adventure."

I noticed that Andor was just silent as usual, as if taking the whole situation in and taking notes. I wondered if he'd tell Eric.

Pam frowned.

"What's wrong now, Pam?" I asked her.

"You've got so many guns and you never showed me how to shoot any, not even the shotgun. And I asked _years_ ago. You've never shown me how to shoot anything at all. You _knew_ I wanted to learn to shoot." She actually pouted, which looked pretty silly with fangs slightly run down. Clearly the thought of using a gun was stirring to Pam.

"Pam, if there's a local range that's open at night, I'll let you shoot my gun. We can go whenever you want. The G26 is a good one for you to try because your hands are small."

"I'll find one as soon as we get back and we can go one night this week."

I laughed. The idea of a vampire wanting to use a gun was rather comical, but whatever made her happy… Still, it really seemed like overkill. Who knew, though. Pam was pretty tiny at about five foot three. All of the other vampires in Eric's immediate circle were men and, with the exception of Rasul, were all well over six feet tall. Even if she was strong, there would always be vampires that were larger, older and stronger still. And she was Eric's second. I wondered if she felt at a disadvantage. Maybe learning to shoot and getting a carry permit, if it was legal in Louisiana, was a good plan after all. She could use silver bullets and be quite lethal that way. I was sure she could easily kill anyone she slowed down with silver.

I bought Samantha a drink and she talked shyly to Cadel for a while. She was pretty and buxom. In a vague way she reminded me of myself at that same age. Tentative, but curious. She was a little afraid of the vampires, but she didn't dislike them at all. She was happy talking to Cadel and thought he was nice in a slightly dangerous kind of way.

When Amelia and Bertram arrived, I still had the icepack that Rasul had put together on my cheek. Amelia took one look at me and shook her head.

"_Some_ things never change…"

She eyed Samantha and then with a knowing look at Bertram, introduced me to him as Sasha Gordon. He was tall, dark haired, with deep set blue eyes. He looked as if he was in his forties and there was something about him that just exuded power. He shook my hand. More chairs were pulled up to the table so that Amelia, Bertram and I could chat.

Samantha said that she was going to go home, and seemed considerably happier than when she had been sitting at the bar earlier. It seemed that Cadel had asked for her phone number. He offered to walk her to her car. I gave him a dark look.

"I'll be a model of gentlemanly behavior, I assure you," he said nodding to me, with a dimpled smile.

"Good, because really, she's had enough go wrong already," I said quietly.

Samantha looked at me oddly, as if wondering how I could know that. She hadn't even really figured out how I knew her name was Samantha. I shook her hand and wished her luck.

After she left, Amelia turned to me and said in a low voice,

"What the heck did you do to get smacked in the face, Sookie? Pam's going to catch it if you get hurt."

"I'm fine. Please, don't get Pam started again, Amelia. That woman's ex-boyfriend was being mean to her. A real jerk. But that's over. So, Bertram… it's really a pleasure to meet you."

I'd never met a sorcerer before, but that was, apparently, what he was. Sorcerers were more powerful than witches according to Amelia and you could really _feel _his power. He was good humored, and full of wit. I liked him. I could tell that Pam liked him, too. When I found out he was really 60 years old, I began to get the picture that Amelia had found herself a very, very unusual man. He actually had a very odd thought signature. If I didn't know better, I'd really think he was part-fairy. And a bigger part than me, for sure. But the vampires didn't seem to be affected by him, so I wasn't sure it was really being a fairy at all that I caught in his thought pattern. Well, I definitely wasn't going to start getting into it in a public place. I'd have to ask her the next time I saw her. All I knew was that Bertram was assuredly not all human. I really liked him very much and Amelia seemed very happy with him.

After talking for a while, I got Pam to dance with me, and eventually Amelia danced with us as well. The three of us had fun laughing and dancing to Laura Branigan's _Self Control _before finally sitting down_. _Then Rasul asked me to dance. I said thanks but I told him I thought it was probably _really_ a bad idea. Pam, Andor and even Cadel burst out laughing at that one. Rasul let the subject drop, after sensing that maybe I had a point there from the look Pam gave him. Amelia and I made plans to get together for lunch later in the week or the following week. She wanted me to see how she had renovated her place.

When we got back to the compound around 3:45 am Eric was waiting in his office for the five of us according to Stefan, who looked as if he thought we were in dire straits. Andor glanced over at Markus, who shrugged as if to say what did we expect. When we entered his office after knocking, Eric regarded us soberly for a moment then rose from his desk and walked over to me. Andor, Cadel and Rasul stood silently, looking grim, while Eric held my chin and turned my face to the side, looking at my cheek. His nostrils flared slightly as he looked down at me and my heartrate accelerated a bit. He was mad... Then he spun me around and took my jacket off and looked at my arms. Pam, who stood nearest to me, looked ever so slightly agitated when she saw my forearm. When Eric was done looking at me he directed me to a chair opposite his desk and then positively growled at Pam, Andor, Cadel and Rasul. I thought there couldn't possibly still be a mark on my face but Eric clearly seemed to know I'd been hit in the face and which cheek it was. There were a few bruises from where the guy had grabbed my arm. He stood mere inches away from Andor and asked him what had taken place. I sank my head into my hands and listened to Andor tell him that I'd gotten into a fight with a guy at the bar we went to, because the guy was being nasty to some woman. That I'd left their group without a word, had gotten hit but that I had beaten the guy up and that he was probably going to be arrested. He just had to mention that the guy was a lot bigger than I was, too. Eric didn't even look at me. After a moment of silence, in which I had the clear feeling that he was trying to be calm about the whole thing, he reamed them out for the fact that they couldn't even be trusted to keep control over a situation involving a five foot six inch tall human. He was particularly mad at Pam, whom he said should have known better, given how long she'd known me. He stood over her speaking to her harshly. I started to open my mouth to tell him it was really my fault but before I could even get a sound out he wheeled around and pointed his finger at me and glared with a look so cold that it would have frozen hot lava. I held my tongue. The four of them looked chastened as they left.

Once we were back upstairs I said to him,

"Eric, you need to stop with the overkill on the safety stuff okay? I _can_ take care of myself. Nothing's happened to me in more than three years, remember? I had that guy on the floor in less than five seconds after he hit me. I've been trained by the FBI with one of the best Krav Maga instructors in the country. Krav Maga is very 'him or me' and not all nice and pretty and sense of honor like martial arts. They train you how to incapacitate people and even how to kill them if you have to. He barely left a mark on me and I could have dislocated his shoulder, broken his wrist or crushed his larynx with what I did to him. When it comes to humans, for the most part, I have it well covered, okay? Especially if it's only one at a time and there are no weapons. Nothing really happened."

He just stared down at me angrily, his eyes flashing like lightning. Then he said with a steely, accented voice,

"I really don't think there is another person I know of who can piss me off the way you can."

He threw his shirt into his laundry basket and stamped out of the bedroom, back into the library. He was really, really mad. I waited a few minutes and then finally walked to the doorway and saw that he was sitting at his desk with his feet up, using his laptop.

"Eric?"

"I am still mad," he said with a sharp edge to his voice, his back to me.

"But nothing happened. It was fine."

He turned to me and gave me a very dark look.

"Omöjliga kvinna, gå till sängs," he said harshly, with a wave of his hand. "_Just go to bed_." He shook his head. "Otroligt!"

"I'm not a child, Eric. I'm not a child to be sent to bed." I knew he was mad, but now he was making me mad.

"Well, sometimes you _act_ like one. En fara för dig själv är vad du är."

"It's not fair to tell me off in a language I don't understand."

"Liksom det inte är rättvist att den enda person som du vill knulla hamnar i trubbel och hon lyckas skada sig själv hela tiden? Ja, you should be glad I'm mad in another language because you wouldn't like what I have to say to you at all. And you shouldn't be eager to be around angry vampires, either. Just go to bed and when I'm no longer so angry, I'll join you." He turned away and kicked at something on the desk with one of his feet.

Finally, about half an hour later, he came back into the bedroom and quietly closed the door. The room was totally dark but I wasn't asleep. I heard his jeans zipper unzip, the clothes come off and the sound of them being tossed into the laundry basket. He got into the bed and slid over next to me.

"How did you know? I looked in the mirror and it didn't leave a mark. How did you know?" I asked softly.

"In the middle of a business call, I felt your growing edginess and then finally anger. Then I could tell you had been hurt or hit or both. When you returned I could still see something slight on your face. A flush on one cheek. Your cheek was slightly swollen, actually. But clearly, you were edgy and trying cover something up. You stood with your arms behind your back, which isn't even the way you usually stand. So I look at the arms and find one bruised. And then, of course, there is Andor's description of what happened. You pursued the situation, Lover and you were proud of yourself for it. For a _complete stranger_, when you had plenty of help at hand. You had to do it on your own. You still always think you can handle things but I'm always going to remember the time you couldn't and you didn't ask for the help you really needed."

I sighed heavily.

"I can't live the entire rest of my life based on that one time, Eric."

"You're lucky to still be living it at all after that one time. We're both lucky you are. You have an uncanny knack for finding trouble, or for it finding you. And you're so quick to take risks. For people you don't even know. Just like you did in Jackson. In all this time nothing has changed and you have no more sense now than you did then. You're so resistant to asking for or accepting help. I said you would be safe here and you still find a way to get yourself hurt. It's infuriating. Just… don't get me started again." The accent was finding its way back into his speech and I could tell he was still mad even if he had come to bed.

I was silent for a while. Finally I said quietly,

"You actually felt what _I_ felt that night?" He knew what night I meant. The one we still avoided mentioning, or at least he did.

"Yes, I did. I felt your pain, your fear, your desperation. And I tried to send you strength, as much as I could spare it, to get you to survive until Bill and Niall could find you. But I guess the current was too strong the other way for you to even realize it. It was excruciating. I will never forget that night."

"So if I get myself hurt, it hurts you, is that what you're saying? It could potentially be incapacitating?"

"For a smart woman you are so dense at times, Sookie. The worst part to me is _not_ the pain. I can take pain. Pain is always temporary. It is my _knowing_ that something is happening to you and being unable to do anything to _help_ you that is my problem, the very worst part of the bond. You have to remember what the bond is, why it is used. It creates a servant, a slave, someone to do your bidding. Such a person is expendable. The feelings of pain or suffering would serve only as a warning to the vampire who controlled such a servant. You can just cut yourself off from them and be indifferent if you wish. You usually never allow yourself to actually feel what a bound servant feels. Why would you want to? But if you love the person to whom you are bound? Sure, who in their right mind would want to feel the suffering of someone they loved? But who could just tune it out? It is bad enough without the bond to know someone you love is harmed. But to _feel_ the emotions of that harm to them and not be able to do anything? It was more excruciating than if they had been doing what they did to you, to me." He shook his head and I felt him stiffen as if he still remembered it all too well.

I couldn't wrap my head around it. He said he loved me and that it had been worse than if they had been doing what they did to me, to him. Part of me just couldn't take it in. Was it just the bond itself that made him feel what he said he felt for me? Why had he even agreed to it? Why not just tune it out if he could feel the pain? Why even agree to do something that had the capacity to make him more vulnerable? It seemed very _un_-Eric.

"Why did you even offer to be bound to me, Eric? Agreeing to do it made you more vulnerable. You didn't even remember being with me, my taking care of you, or any of it. Why did you offer yourself as Andre's proxy? I just don't get it."

"I couldn't stand the thought of your being bound to him, of what he could have done to you. The idea was deeply offensive to me. I didn't need to remember. I felt the way I felt, whether I remembered why or not. You were _mine_. I didn't want to lose you. Certainly not to him, not in such a way. Even though I knew he'd make me pay for crossing him, it was worth the risk. Both the risk with Andre and the long-term risk of having the bond at all. It would be great if you didn't try to compound that risk with every choice you make, however," he said with an unpleasant edge to his voice.

It was finally my turn to flinch. It was one of the moments when you see something with a broader view than just looking out for yourself. So Eric was saying I was rather cavalier about my choices and how they impacted _him_. What were the consequences of my choices for people that might love me, who had really lavished care on me? My grandmother had asked me that once, long ago. Really, since my grandmother had died, I hadn't had any cause to think or feel that I had to consider carefully how my choices or risks impacted anyone who cared about me. Until, it seemed, now. I was silent for a long time and then I said softly,

"I will try. I'll really try to be more considerate, Eric. But just remember, if I change too much about me because of what happened with Neave and Lochlan, they will have won, even if they're dead. They will have cut something essential out of my being _me_."

He just sighed, and pulled me closer.

"It's not always about winning, Sookie. Sometimes it's just about surviving," he said in a low voice in my ear.

I lay there in his arms thinking it was rather ironic that he was telling me off for helping a stranger when he told me he'd been turned by a man who had been pretending to be an injured traveler. _He'd_ stopped to help a stranger.

Then suddenly, in an embarrassingly late flash of insight, I got it.


	10. Chapter 9

**IX.**

"So how about the fidelity issue?"

Eric was talking about his terms for 'our committed relationship'.

I looked at him and shrugged. It was really almost unbearably hot in here. I'd never been in a sauna before but it was _intense_. It was different from the Turkish hammam that I went to sometimes with Alla. It was hotter right away, no slow warm up. The heat was much drier at times, too. And because it was a much smaller space, it just felt overwhelming. He'd been thrilled that they'd completed the installation. It was in a separate room right across the hall from his rooms, complete with a separate shower for cooling off. Evidently he'd had a sauna in Shreveport and had been missing it. He had explained they were really Finnish, not Swedish, but they were very popular all throughout Scandinavia. Basically, I was thinking this proved that Scandinavia was either far too cold, or that Scandinavians were a seriously troubled people. It was almost unbearable and I was born and raised in a hot and humid state with bayous.

"What about it? We talked about all that before. You know, I really don't know how much more of this I can take…"

"Of what? The conversation, being faithful to me, the relationship?" he said with a smirk on his face.

"No, Eric, the sauna. Geeeeez. I feel like I'm just going to melt."

He poured more water on the rocks and the room filled with steam again. I really wasn't sure that was an improvement. Plus, it made it harder to see him, which seemed kind of relevant if you were having a serious conversation. But it was probably better than the dry heat. I was glad I had taken my contact lenses out earlier. Eric didn't say much about that but I could tell he really liked it better when it was just my natural eye color. I was sure that if I went back to being blonde he'd be even happier, although he'd been very careful about not saying anything about my hair. But he glared at Pam whenever she said I looked great as a redhead, which she did at least once a night within his earshot. I had decided she must be doing it deliberately to needle him.

"What about it, Lover? Fidelity."

"Eric, we already discussed that long ago. If you still have any questions on the matter, I'm referring you back to the mental transcript you have of our conversation three and a half years ago. Just edit out the part about "if the bond is the only thing," okay? Get rid of that and keep the rest because this sauna thing is going to take every last ounce of energy I have left, which is really sad because I've only been up for a little over an hour."

"It's good for you. Saunas are really good for you. So that's it? That's all you have to say on the subject?"

"When do we get to the cold part? Soon? I thought vampires didn't like heat? You guys always go around in t-shirts when it's snowing. How can you take this? I personally think I'm going to have heat exhaustion. Can I _please_ get out?"

He shook his head disapprovingly and sighed. But he stood up, pulling me to my feet.

"Do you want me to shower with you or stay warm?"

I was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want me to be warm? I'll retain the heat for a bit. Maybe you'd like that?"

I still didn't get it. Then suddenly I got it.

"You mean warm, like for _sex_?" I gave him an odd look. What the heck? "Really you're fine the way you are, Eric. Besides, you'll be warm for what, like about two minutes? What's the point? And I'd be afraid to leave you in here, frankly. I feel like I'll come out of the shower and find that you melted or something."

He laughed out loud at me, shaking his head. Okay, he thought I was really a complainer. I thought I was being entirely reasonable after almost ten minutes in the thing.

We got out of the sauna (and what a relief just regular air was) and he turned it off while I ran the water for the shower. I checked to make sure my hair was still firmly clipped up.

"So that's still all you have to say on the subject then?" he asked, following me into the shower and putting his arms around me.

The shock of the cold water was incredible. After a couple of seconds my teeth were chattering. I wasn't sure why this was much more intense than going to a hammam, but it really was.

I looked up at him. "What more do you _want_?" I said, shivering.

"The other half of the conversation. You seem to have absolutely no interest or questions about whether I'd be faithful to you."

"What I don't ask about, I don't get upset about."

He bent his head down toward me and shook it disapprovingly.

"Sookie, you're supposed to be jumping up and down insisting that I be faithful to you. Really."

"Well, my insisting won't make it so, Eric. I'm sure you're going to do whatever you want to do no matter what I insist on or say, so there's really no reason to discuss it."

"So you don't care if I am faithful to you?"

"I didn't say that. I said that I don't think what _I_ want is going to be the deciding factor there."

"Why not? Are you really suggesting that your feelings on the matter would be of no importance to me? That I'd expect you to be faithful to me even if I was unfaithful to you, if we are in a relationship?"

"Okay, now I'm getting really cold. And I think that your attitude is just amazing for a Viking. Did you think this way a thousand years ago?"

He reached around me and turned off the shower.

"Those were different times with different social mores. I'm trying to be modern, Lover. If you want me to act like a Viking, I'm really not so sure you'll enjoy it."

Eric grabbed me at the waist and pulled me to him, grinning down at me in a rather scary fashion. But then he made a silly face, laughed and opened the glass door to the shower. He stepped out offering me his hand. I was shivering and my teeth were still chattering. Amazingly, the sauna now looked somewhat more inviting. I took his hand and stepped out. He picked up a big white towel and toweled me dry. Then he opened the sauna and took out the now warm robe he'd loaned me. He wrapped me in it and hugged me.

I stood there with my head against his damp, silent chest, his arms around me and said,

"Okay, how about this Eric. Follow your heart. With the exception of the few times that I can think of that you've been a sneaky bullshitter with me, I think you're a good person. You say you love me? So just… follow your heart. I haven't agreed to any greater commitment than what we have right now, anyway. You're so into the _mine_ thing. But I'm definitely not deluding myself into thinking the reverse holds true. You choose what you do. I'm not interested in telling you how to be. It seems to me like it might be a mistake given your long life experience for me to start telling you how to live anyway. Just do what your heart tells you is right, okay?"

He pulled away from me and looked at me as if somehow very surprised. Finally, after a full minute of looking at me as if I was utterly inscrutable to him he said with an almost puzzled smile,

"I'll be faithful to you. I just want you to visit regularly, Lover. Maybe every other week? Your living here would be ideal, if they would let you work from here. Perhaps if we get mar…"

I cut him off before he could get any farther carried away.

"Oh no. No you don't. Not that discussion. Not again. I'm not talking anymore about moving anywhere right now, Eric. We already covered that earlier. And the second thing, just… you really need to chill on that one. I've still got 24 days of paid time off. That's one week a month for a few months. Assuming I still have a job when I go back, I can come once a month for a week."

I couldn't even believe this conversation. He had been badgering me about how we were going to make this work for real since the moment the sun set. Probably close to an hour of incessant talk about 'us', about my 'trust issues,' about when I might be able to ask if it was possible to live outside of Virginia for my work, about fidelity. After many years of hearing about all the men in the world who didn't want to talk about anything serious in a relationship sense, it was my good fortune, and I said that to myself rather sarcastically, to have fallen for a guy who not only wanted to talk about our relationship, but wasn't going to _quit_ talking until he had it _exactly the way he wanted it_.

"What about when you run out of vacation days? That's only three months."

I rolled my eyes and pulled away from him. Geez, the man was so damn relentless! How the hell did I know what I'd do when I ran out of vacation days? Perhaps a downside of loving someone who was practically immortal was that to them, three months was evidently little more than the blink of an eye? Maybe he'd be tired of 'us' by then. Or maybe it was irrelevant if I didn't even really have a job anymore. Just thinking about that possibility started stressing me further. Which was more likely? They'd decide I was too big a risk and fire me? Or they'd piss me off about Eric and I'd have to quit? And what an unbelievable problem it might be to extricate myself from the Bureau if I realized I _did_ have to quit and they didn't _want_ me to quit. After several days of thinking about it I had come to the conclusion that it was most likely that I was simply not the type of asset that they were going to want to let go of unless I was just plain unmanageable. This whole topic was just getting me upset.

"I'm getting stressed out. Cut it out," I said with a definite edge of warning. "Just… quit badgering me already."

He looked down at me. He was so still he looked like he'd been carved in stone. He was totally cool and calm across the bond but it felt totally artificial as if he was forcing himself to be so, purely for the sake of cajoling me into agreeing to everything he wanted. Sometimes I felt as if I had peeled back that layer of cool calm I'd find molten steel that would just harden into whatever tool was needed to get what Eric wanted. I couldn't believe there was ever a time when I hadn't been sure what my feelings were versus what his feelings were. Right now they could be summed up neatly. Me, getting totally stressed out and pissed off. Him, hell-bent on massaging every fiber of the situation into the exact position he wanted it and thinking that he'd just sweet talk me into it. I felt like I was on the verge. And not the verge of giving in.

"We do not have to talk about every fucking detail of everything right _now_, do we? You said that you would give me time, Eric. You _said_ you could be patient. That was what, all of about twenty minutes ago? I don't even know what I'm going to be doing in two weeks. I may be out of a job, or have problems if the FBI gets all weirded out about us and tries to stash me somewhere to convince me to give you up to stay with the Bureau on their terms. They're going to be sure that you're glamouring the hell out of me to get information or some stupid shit like that. You can't even begin to imagine how these people think, especially my boss's boss. It's going to take my convincing them that I can't be glamoured and that I'm not a big risk and that neither are you. And in the meantime I get to worry that they're going to get all nasty with you and that you'll get all kinds of IRS or Homeland Security shit thrown at you because you made the major mistake of thinking you had some prior claim on me or my life." I buried my face in my hands and took a deep breath. I looked up at him, shaking my head. "Let me just try to deal with it all my way, okay? And please, just let me have some peace right now. Peace, with you. A _simple_ concept, Eric."

I was kidding myself if I thought that was going to happen. He was like a dog with a bone. His jaw was tense, his eyes were starting up with that angry glow and he pursed his lips.

"I know what you do is important, Sookie. You have every right to be proud of your work. I know it's important work and that you are probably quite good at it. But I wish you were still a barmaid. I _hate_ your job, I _hate_ its risks. I _hate_ it that they may pressure you not to be involved with me. _I hate the whole thing_."

His voice practically vibrated inside me as his eyes just bored into me like lasers. He was rapidly losing his grip on the calm façade. At least he was being totally honest instead of giving me the phony calm bullshit when I could see full well that he was getting mad that I wasn't agreeing to _what_ he wanted exactly _as_ he wanted it. But his honest opinion still pissed me off.

"Gee, really? Yeah, I think I've noticed that, Eric. It's my job, though. And I'm not quitting it just because _you_ have qualms. I'm sorry if my job is an impediment to your plans. No matter what goes on between us, or what _your_ plans are, I'm going to continue to work. At this job or at whatever the hell job I want to work at. Period, end of story. And I hope you can sense that I am getting totally and completely pissed off with your attitude about my desire to work. If you think I don't know what you really think or what you'd really like, you're kidding yourself. You're not sweet talking me into a damn thing or fooling me with the oh, so calm and cool, _relentless_ discussion. And for the record, pissing me off about my work is not a good plan if you want me visiting you or if you want any serious relationship with me at all. So you had better cut it out. This is _not_ a negotiation. My decision is already made." At this point, I was really totally in his face, glaring up at him.

He looked sort of frozen at my words. I felt like I was on a rollercoaster ride, careening from happiness when we first got up to being utterly infuriated at the moment. He, on the other hand, was looking a lot like he'd fallen off the ride after that last part of my take on my work. Not being able to control me was clearly a double-edged sword. He seemed to be almost palpably struggling with the fact that I was not swayed one bit by his displeasure with my job. His face looked like a rapidly changing series of emotions, not so calm and controlled now.

"And if they pressure you to make a choice, what will you do?" he asked quietly. He looked remote as he asked me this.

I looked at him, surprised by the change in the tone of his voice and the sudden remoteness. What was the deal? He'd gone from angry to remote in no time. Then, finally, I could see that under the remains of his calm façade, he was actually looking… and feeling… worried? But like me, he was far too proud to admit it. Maybe he was pushing for more commitment because he was worried I'd leave and it would all be unresolved, just like before? Before had been a disaster. Worried, perhaps, that the job meant more to me than he'd realized… I flashed on the thought that three years before, when the chips were down, I had meant more to him that his job as Sheriff, possibly risking even his life considering what Felipe might have done to him. What a surprising realization that was to me. It simply wasn't how I envisioned Eric at all, even if I was sure he had had some backup plan in case Felipe really fired him. But that was the choice he had made, the risk he'd taken. Maybe he was worried I didn't feel the same? I shivered because I wasn't sure that I wasn't actually reading Eric's thoughts. Maybe it was just simply getting to know him better? I couldn't tell- it was all mingled with feelings and strong emotions. I realized that in some ways, Eric and I were not too different after all. We were both so proud. He was right when he'd said that the other day. Most of all, it finally began to occur to me that maybe he really did love me. Because he was genuinely worried about what I'd choose to do if pressed to choose. It really mattered to him. A lot. Well, it was an easy enough thing to allay whatever worries he had with the simple truth.

"What would I do? Let's just say that if they are intrusive into my private life, I'm not going to be very receptive to the idea, okay? But it's more than that. You already know how I'd react to the idea of your asking me to quit my job. Think about how I'd feel about them asking me to give up someone I love just because they say so, Eric. It's kind of a no-brainer, if you ask me. If that were the deal, you have nothing to worry about, okay? I promise you."

He didn't reply and his eyes still glowed as he looked down at me. But something almost imperceptible in his face relaxed. He didn't say anything but I felt him gradually relax. I kept hanging on the thought that maybe he really meant it. Could he really actually love me? The thought just kind of stunned me.

He dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist and picked up his jeans. We crossed from the sauna room back to his rooms. After padding through the library I climbed up on the bed still wrapped in the huge robe.

He dropped the towel and just stood leaning with his hands on the footboard, looking at me.

"What?" I asked softly, meeting his eyes. I swallowed hard and seriously hoped there was no _new_ avenue of stress to explore because I'd had enough and was now lost in my pondering what this powerful man could actually see in me.

He just shook his head. His eyes glowed still as he looked at me.

"_What?_" I asked again, almost in a whisper.

"You continue to surprise me. I do know you well. Quite well. But you still surprise me. I've never known anyone like you." He looked away for a moment and shook his head and then laughed softly. "I will never be able to thank Bill Compton sufficiently for bringing you into my bar. And for being such a damn fool." He smiled mischievously at those words.

Then he vaulted over the footboard and onto bed and did some playful pillaging.

**

* * *

**

"Okay, just for the sake of clarity, pretend I'm an idiot and explain this to me again, Mr. C."

I was really sure I was misunderstanding things. What he was telling me just seemed impossible.

"My dear, it's so simple. Everything. He left it to you lock, stock and barrel as they say. All his assets. I really don't know how else to explain it_. All of it."_

This was the third time going over the details of my great grandfather's wishes. He had left me all his assets before returning to Faery and sealing it off. In Faery they didn't need money. They just used magic. Their magic was weaker in our world. Money supplied many of the things that they couldn't magic into existence here. But if he wasn't going to live here any longer, he didn't need his money, and so he left everything to me. Claude had sold Hooligans and pooled the funds into Niall's accounts, too.

I looked through the papers again. Then I looked up at him and said,

"Well, why?"

Mr. Cataliades simply shrugged.

"He wanted to provide for you. He had to do something with it. It was of no use to him, as he said, and could be of great use to you."

"But, surely he left half to Jason, or…" Eric sank his head into his hand and then rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. Then he glanced over at Mr. Cataliades and shook his head.

"What?" I asked Eric.

"Sookie," Eric said firmly, finally taking over to explain what the half-demon lawyer seemed reluctant to express in bald-faced terms, "Your grandfather didn't leave Jason a dime. He didn't _like_ Jason. Jason reminded him of Dermot. In more ways than one. So he left it all to you. He didn't wish Jason any harm but he wasn't doing him any favors. He liked you. He _loved_ you. He left it _all _to you. End of story."

I looked at the papers again and blinked at the eight figure total at the end.

"That's a serious hunk of change." I looked over at Mr. Cataliades again. "You're for real? He really left all this money to me?"

Mr. C. just nodded.

"Well, I think that's just plain stupid," I said with a snort.

Eric looked at me with an eyebrow raised. Mr. C., however, looked like he was beginning to think he concurred with me, but probably not for the same reason.

"Seriously. No one person really needs that kind of money, in my opinion. I guess he left in too big a hurry to think about that the fact that no amount of money would make up for what had happened to me and that the money would be better off left to benefit of a greater number of people. Which is exactly where most of it is going to be going."

"But Lover, he wanted to allow you to have the financial freedom not to work and to be truly independent."

_Not to work?_ Did he _actually_ say that? I turned slowly to look at him with my chin jutting out a bit and let out a long slow breath instead of speaking my mind in front of Mr. C. I was seriously starting to think that, on the subject of my working, Eric was thicker than a two by four. He picked up on my immense annoyance.

"Of course, I mean if you don't _wish_ to work," he said correcting himself. "Financial independence was what he had in mind." He smiled a very wry smile. Now he was just having fun with the whole work thing, I could see. Pushing my buttons.

Mr. C. then looked askance at Eric, who nodded. He drew out another file folder from his briefcase and presented me with a document, which I looked over.

"What is this? A prenuptial agreement?" I chortled. "Well, nice idea Mr. C. but it's either too late or too early, depending upon what kind of marriage you'd be looking at, right?"

"It would be prudent to have an agreement for the present degree of attachment."

"Well, I'm not signing anything, sorry. Do I have to pay inheritance tax on this or…" I looked at the account records notes that he'd given me. "Jesus Christ, Shepherd of Judea. You're telling me that this is _after_ the tax came out of the inheritance? How much did he have originally? Well, considering the entire amount is going to be reduced by about say, ninety percent, I still really don't see the need for any agreement."

Mr. C. looked at me with both eyebrows raised. "What are you going to do with the funds?" he asked apprehensively.

"Well, after I give some of it to Jason to pay off his mortgage and set aside a portion so he'll have some savings… I think it's just plain mean that he'd treat me so differently from Jason- no wonder there were so many problems between Dermot, Dillon and Fintan, right? Jason can't help what he looks like and those were Niall's genes that made him look that way, after all." I said looking at Eric. "Actually, I guess I'll need help doing this because Jason's not supposed to know where I am right now… I'm also going to help Sam pay off whatever loan he still has for his bar, set up a trust for Hadley's son, set aside a portion for myself and then the rest is going to go to non-profit aid organizations. I'll have to look into which ones, but a healthy chunk is going to Amnesty International. And there are several groups building schools and clinics in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Plus, women's groups. Maybe some microloan agencies. Doctors Without Borders. This stuff should be put to good use. It's a lot of money. And it's enough to really make a difference in some places."

Mr. C. looked appalled and glanced at Eric.

Eric just threw up his hands and said, "It's her money."

"Do you have a will? Eric says that your work now involves some risk?" asked Mr. Cataliades.

Like working for Sophie-Anne wasn't risky? I thought to myself.

"I don't but I guess I will try to pursue getting one." I looked at Eric and squinted a bit. "If anything happens to me, can Eric access the money?"

Eric turned to me looking shocked. I reached out under the table and took his hand to reassure him and waited to hear Mr. C.'s answer.

"Legally, as things stand right now, it would be difficult. It would be possible with the proper account information but there might be tax issues involved because of the lack of formal legal status."

"Then I'll send you an email with what I'd like to do for a will and for the trust for Hadley's son. If you can have something before I leave New Orleans on the 26th it would be great."

Mr. Cataliades had me sign the account signature cards and told me the accounts would just be accessed by number and not by name so whichever name I was going by wouldn't matter. The bank was Swiss. He rose to leave a short time later, shaking my hand and giving me a look that showed he clearly thought I was off my rocker.

After he was out the door, Eric turned to me and said sharply,

"What was that about, Sookie? Can I get the money if something happens to you? What was that?" He looked very upset. Offended even.

"Because I have to make sure that Hadley's son gets some of that money, Eric. Mr. C. is right. I..." I stopped and hesitated. Maybe admitting that my job had even a remote potential to get me killed was probably not a wise thing where Eric was concerned after the discussion in the sauna room. I had to be careful in how I explained it... "I just know that if something happened to me that you'd make sure what I wanted was done, that's all. I'd trust you to make sure that Hunter got the money I wanted him to get. I'm not so sure, frankly, that I'd trust Jason to do that. He's not a bad person but sometimes he just doesn't do the right thing. I'll have to trust someone to do it so I'd rather trust you. I hope you don't mind? I'm not planning to have anything happen to me anytime soon, but just in case, I hope you'd be okay with that?"

I'd clearly caught him totally off-guard with my reply. He got an odd look on his face. Then I got the feeling he was quite touched, actually.

"Of course, Lover. Of course."

I collected all the papers and put them back into the envelope Mr. C. had left me and looked at his business card with his contact info. I'd have to think of what I wanted to put in a will, and what to do for the trust for Hunter, how much to set aside for Jason, and for myself. I'd have to think about how to contact Sam about his business loan. I didn't want it to seem like it was my apology for taking off without saying goodbye. It was more like a thank you for more than five years of working for him and being able to give something back.

After several moments of being seemingly lost in thought himself, Eric rose and said,

"I have work to do, Lover. You know your way around. I assume you are fine amusing yourself? Pam will be back in a while. Please remember to eat. You're already too thin." He bent down and kissed me, then went off toward his office.

I went off to the sitting room and called Ahmed. Ahmed contributed to a couple of organizations in Waziristan, including the Revolutionary Association of Women of Afghanistan which was operating out of Waziristan. But I knew there were other organizations that he followed. He was out for a late dinner with friends, in Adams Morgan, at an Ethiopian place we'd been to several times, Meskerem. He excused himself to his friends and walked outside on 18th Street while talking to me for a few minutes. We had a brief, humorous conversation in which he made me laugh about how truly dismal things were at work without Alla and me and said he'd call me back later to make me feel _really_ guilty about it. I told him I'd wait for him to call me back.

I read for a while and then went downstairs to the kitchen on the ground floor and managed to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich. Tonight the kitchen was empty, but I found my way around, made my sandwich and cleaned up. I really wasn't eating much these days. Between the odd hours and the fact that there was no one to eat with, it was easy to skip meals, which wasn't a very good idea if you were supplying blood to a vampire, even an old one. I saw a stack of protein bars on the counter and pocketed two. I went back upstairs and worked on finishing _Crime and Punishment_. I had reframed Raskolnikov in my mind. He was me. He was… anyone and everyone, really. He was an allegory for anyone who could do bad things and claim it was for the right reason or that they were above the law because they were special. Justifying choices and claiming to be righteous. It was so easy to do wrong and say you felt bad about it later, too. He was my everyday work life in terms of so many people I met, in all the different facets of my world. I tried to reflect on whether his immense inner turmoil over his crimes was really punishment at all. Because he kept on thinking that what he had done wasn't all that bad because he was a special person. He was… delusional, at least in my mind. But maybe we are all deluded in some way about why we make the choices we do. I played it all against my own self-torment over the deaths of Tray, Clancy and Claudine. _I_ hadn't harmed them, but I felt as guilty as if I had. It had certainly felt like punishment at times, I had to admit. It felt very ironic to be reading a book in which one ended up debating one's capacity for self-delusion, considering a lot of questions I had internally about my present situation. When Ahmed texted me around 2:15 am to see if I was awake, I had just finished the book.

I called him back and asked him if he'd read _Crime and Punishment._ I figured he must have, since Ahmed was pretty much the best read person I'd ever met other than maybe a few of my vampire friends like Eric and Pam, and they'd had a lot more reading time on their hands than Ahmed, who was my same age.

"Sasha, tell me you are not reading depressing shite on holiday. You have to go for humor. Vacation read, not mind fuck? Why read Dostoyevsky on holiday when you can read Wilde or Twain or something light? Rereading Austen or even _Bridget Jones_ would suit you better for holiday. Light, happy, diverting. I hate thinking about you reading something depressing when many days are so depressing at work."

I was stretched out on the couch in the sitting room, looking at the ceiling. I closed my eyes.

"Um, it's a long story as to how I started reading it. My… friend gave it me to read. Now I'm kind of seeing a Raskolnikov in everyone. Everyone justifies their decisions and choices that way, really, at least to some extent. Everyone fears the repercussions of their bad choices. Even when we make honorable choices, they can torment us when the turn out badly, right? But is the torment he feels his worst punishment? Because he isn't really sorry that he did it. To me, he's sorry that he's going to be _judged_ for doing it. And I don't understand the end. I still think he doesn't even understand Sonya. He doesn't see that she is so much better than he is, that she's still a good person in spite of what she had to do and that he isn't, not even when he confesses and at least says he is sorry for what he did. Not even when he realizes he loves her. Do you think he can really be redeemed? The epilogue makes it sound like he is. I just don't see it. Although I don't know, maybe he really was mentally ill. I just can't decide."

Ahmed paused for a moment on the other end.

"Tell your friend I dislike him, or her, intensely for giving you depressing books on holiday, okay? You were _supposed_ to relax. So… Yes and no. I guess I think he is redeemed by Sonya's love, made more human by accepting the love and returning that love, but he is never really absolved of what he has done. There are some things for which you can never have absolution and I guess killing the sisters is an example. Maybe that's what you see that bothers you. That's part of the whole schism. You know 'raskolnik' means schismatic in Russian. I guess you can look at him as a symbolic representation of the dichotomy of good versus evil in all of us. And in the end, I guess you could say he's improved by Sonya but not absolved of the sins of what he's done."

"No, I didn't know about the 'raskolnik' thing. It wasn't the _annotated_ version," I said snidely. "Hmmmm. I'll have to think on that one. Redemption versus absolution. Love redeeming you but not really absolving you. On another note," I said with a sigh, "you still give to RAWA, right?"

"Sure," he said.

"When I get back I need to talk to you about that. They seem a bit militant these days. But they have done a lot of good things. I'm looking into different non-profits to support."

"If you are casting about, you should look into Central Asia Institute, Sasha. They're very much your mindset. They build schools and clinics. I support them, too. I can't believe you're thinking of this stuff on holiday. You're really a mess, you know? So, are you having a pleasant vacation, even if you won't disengage yourself from our charming work atmosphere?"

"Yes. Yes, I am." I sighed. I held my Blackberry to my ear with my shoulder and rubbed my closed eyelids. "Quite pleasant. It's good thing I left Rosie, or you might not even get me back."

"Between you and Alla being gone, it's serious drag at work. I've got a load of shite on my desk from some wiretap of these Pakistani guys in the Bronx. Hours and hours and hours of tape of practically illiterate speakers of Urdu. It hurts my mind to listen. I have to keep my espresso machine running so I don't fall asleep and miss some heinous plot. You know, Manny is acting odd. Quite odd. He asked me yesterday if I knew where you'd gone as if I was in on some secret. I told him ClubMed. He seemed hacked off. Chuck is on some weird rampage, acting like a real wanker. But you're having fun wherever, yes? Just... don't tell me where... in case you're in trouble with them. I prefer to think of you having fun. Tell me you're having fun, Sasha, darling."

I laughed at the ClubMed comment. Yeah, I was sure Manny was 'hacked off' at that one. Chuck always complained that Ahmed was too flippant and Ahmed had never done a thing to change Chuck's viewpoint.

"MmmmHmmm. Having fun. Really. Lots actually. I promise. You know, I saw Nnenna Freelon perform live last night. She was fabulous. I wish you could have seen her, too." I paused wondering if he'd figure out that I was in New Orleans. No doubt he could, but Ahmed was the master of compartmentalization, so if he didn't want to know where I was, he wouldn't check on that. "If you go see Alla, Mercan and the baby, tell them I send my love. I'm afraid to call and wake them, even during the day." I yawned.

"Love to them. Right. Not my thing, babies. But I suppose I have to go. As long as you don't expect me to learn Farsi or Pashto, I'll do your bidding. Oh, don't yawn! Listen, I should get some sleep. It's terribly late. I really don't know what I was thinking…" I could hear him yawning now. "Cheerio, then."

"Good night, sweet prince," I said with a chuckle.

"Gag me, Sasha."

"Oh, you'll have to get someone else to do that," I said with another yawn of my own. "Sounds kinky, and I'm not even your type."

He laughed.

"Good night for real," I said.

"Ciao, Bella."

I ended the call and just lay there on the couch for several minutes, smiling with my eyes still closed. I missed Ahmed and his abundant sarcasm. I missed Alla's fiery arguments with him. I missed going to sleep at a reasonable hour. Like, by now, for instance. Finally, I decided if I didn't sit up and do _something_ that I'd really fall asleep. I opened my eyes and started to sit up, only to find Eric staring down at me, all of about two inches away from my face. I jerked and gasped and said,

"Shit, Eric! You really scared me!" My heart just about came out of my chest. "Geez. You know I get freaked when you sneak up on me. How long were you there like that?" It had been quite a while since I'd had the preternatural stealth of a vampire freak me out.

"Sasha, darling? Good night, sweet prince? Ciao bella? Who the hell was that?"

I squeezed away from him, sat up and looked at him with a grimace, my hand still pressed to my chest and my still pounding heart. "Ahmed. You know, Ahmed? I work with him? He's an interpreter and analyst? Arabic, Urdu, Turkish, Kurdish, etc. It's an inside joke, that's all. Geez, you really scared me, Eric."

I wasn't going to get into the whole thing that Ahmed was a somewhat disgraced member of the Saudi royal family both because of what they thought of as his 'lifestyle choice' and because he'd become a US citizen, in part to get away from the social constraints of his family and their elitist lifestyle. And to top it all off, he'd been working for the FBI for the past three years. He really _was_ a prince, but there were literally hundreds in the Saudi royal family.

"Well, you seem awfully cozy with him. And I'm just a _friend_, eh?"

His eyes looked quite fiery and there was a not so subtle edge to Eric's voice. It was obvious that he had been listening for quite a while and he didn't like the fact that I was clearly _very_ fond of Ahmed, let alone my demoting his status to that of friend when talking to Ahmed.

"I don't know how to explain you to him. I have to consider it carefully, since he's from an entirely different culture, Eric. One that isn't exactly well known for tolerance of vampires. I'll tell him about you. Ahmed is pretty much my closest friend in Virginia. But what am I supposed to come up with on the spur of the moment to explain us? I can barely explain 'us' to me. But I _am_ cozy with him. Ahmed's managed the incredible feat of never making me feel like a stupid American freak in spite of the fact that he's so much smarter and better educated than I am and in spite of the fact that you could say he comes from a culture not exactly renowned for holding independent women in high regard. I enjoy his company. Just like I enjoy Alla's company. Ahmed and I just spend more time together than Alla and I do because he's single. We go sailing, with Alla and her husband, remember? It's Ahmed's boat. _Very cozy_. But certainly no threat to you. Besides, remember that we have that no office romance policy at the Bureau? You'd never have a reason to ever worry about anyone I work with."

Eric put his arms on either side of me and leaned toward me and softly began to nuzzle my neck. He spoke as if he was completely disinterested in my explanation.

"I'm almost done for the night. And I'm… hungry for you," he said with a voice that seemed to pull at me almost physically. I felt as if something was pulling softly on my mind. _Mine, _I felt echoing inside me. What the hell? I shook my head slightly. He was jealous. _Really_ jealous. Jealous enough to somehow have slipped into a mode where he was, consciously or not, trying to control me. I could feel it. It was almost as if... I could hear it. _You're mine._ I pressed my hand to my temple. This was more than a little freaky I thought to myself. It was really like I was hearing him. I pushed it all away. I didn't _want_ to hear Eric. It was one of the things I liked. Not hearing Eric. And he was jealous of _Ahmed_? Clearly, Bill hadn't told him some rather pertinent information. But that wasn't even the point. I had been on my own for three years and not even looked at another man. Jealous of Ahmed? Jealous of _anyone _was incredible to me.

I leaned forward slightly into him while he was still at my neck and put my hands on his broad shoulders and said in a sultry voice near his ear,

"Eric, cut the glamour crap. I hate it when you do that. And it's totally _pointless_ because it just pisses me off. So," I kissed his neck, and nibbled on his earlobe, "stop it already."

He made a soft sound and then pushed me against the back of the couch and kissed me hard, while kneeling over me on the couch.

Cadel and someone else started to enter the room and pulled back after seeing us,

"Sorry!"

I jumped because I was startled yet again and one of Eric's fangs cut my lip, by accident. I hissed softly as I tasted the blood in my mouth and winced with the discomfort of the cut.

Pam peered around the door and shook her head but backed away and quietly closed the door to the room.

Eric pulled my hand away from my lip and looked at it with a sigh. He sat down on the couch next to me and punctured his fingertip and put a drop of blood on my lip, which felt like it sealed up almost immediately. He sat silently, not moving, with his finger still touching my lip, looking at me. I took his hand.

"Eric," I said softly, "I'm not interested in anyone else. I am not going to sleep with anyone else. I think it's amazing if you'd even think otherwise considering what you already know about my life for the past three years. But I give you my word. You have no reason to feel jealous of anyone, okay?"

He looked me in the eyes and was silent, as if absorbing my words. The words made him... satisfied.

"Neither do you. I give you my word," he said quietly, his eyes meeting mine with intensity.

After another few minutes of silence, where he almost seemed as if he was on the brink of saying something else, he rose and said,

"I should speak with Cadel. It won't take long." He leaned down and kissed my forehead.

I looked up at him and it was if he had transformed himself back into that serious vampire king in a flash. I shivered slightly. Eric's ability to go from vulnerable to seemingly invulnerable took my breath away.

"I'm going to go let Pam tease me for a while," I said with a smile. I rose, pocketed my phone and picked up the book and my papers to go off to Pam's office.

She was pleased to have the opportunity to tease me, and tease she did. 'Rent a room, oh wait a minute, you two already _have_ one.' and all the usual fare. Later she told me she had made plans for us to go to a shooting range on Thursday evening. She hoped that Eric would 'release me' by 8:30 pm so that we could get to the range before 9 pm, since they closed at 10:30 pm, she said. I asked if I was his captive and she replied that it was probably an accurate way of looking at my reality, but not to tell Eric _she_ said so. When Eric joined us, she struck up a wonderful conversation about how well my sea green top complimented my auburn hair and that now, of course, I really couldn't wear _reds _at all.


	11. Chapter 10

**X.**

When I came to, I was being carried up the stairs by Stefan while somewhere behind us I heard shouting, wailing and then finally a woman's screams. I was confused about everything except the fact that my head was absolutely killing me and my ribs on my left side hurt like all get out. He was being really careful carrying me. I leaned my head back against Stefan's shoulder and groaned. I was really pretty sure I had a couple of cracked ribs.

"You're safe," he said softly. "I am _so_ sorry, Sookie."

Stefan carried me into Pam's office and she made some kind of exclamation but I couldn't make sense of it. As he set me down on the couch and propped me upright, I felt very dizzy. My head felt horrible.

Pam sat down next to me and took my face in her hands. I tried to focus on her. But it was hard.

"Sookie? Talk to me?"

I wanted to but just couldn't. My head hurt too much. They went on talking but it was like I was fading in and out. My scalp started stinging and I was aware of Pam fussing over it and then suddenly it felt better. Stefan was answering his cell phone and then I heard him saying,

"Eric said he was already on his way back. To say he's upset would be quite an understatement. Let me go see that Cadel and Rasul are taking care of it. I just can't believe Char did this." He looked at me with a grave face.

"I don't know what Eric was thinking allowing that one to live here. She's been nothing but trouble. Ever since she latched onto Cadel she's been trying to work her way up to Eric. I told you she was just using you, Stefan. You were one rung further up the ladder. She's mental, that one, like a stalker. Sookie? Sookie! _Shit!_"

I seemed to just fade at that point, losing the sense of her words.

I awoke again, resting back against Eric's chest with his chin pressing on the top of my head to steady it, his right arm was around my waist and his legs hugged my hips and thighs. With the taste of his blood still on my lips, the gash on his rapidly healing wrist seemed to have just pulled away from my mouth. I slowly started to come around to lucidity and then felt much better, clearer headed. We were alone in Pam's office, still on the couch. He seemed to sense my increased alertness and kissed my temple.

"How do you feel? Your head is better? That should be enough. You had some of Pam's, too."

I leaned my head down toward my chest a bit and then raised it nodding. He probed my ribs on my left side and seemed satisfied. They didn't hurt anymore.

"MmmHmm. Better. What… what happened? The last thing I remember was going downstairs to get something to eat and…" I groaned slightly and put my hand at the back of my head. It didn't hurt there anymore. But it had. "Someone hit me in the head. Hard. I realized too late that she was going to hit me. It was like the idea just popped into her head on the spur of the moment. Freaky. It was such a spontaneous thing. Who is she?"

"Charlotte. A resident. A resident donor. You must have sensed it enough to move out of her way a bit because Rasul said she had to hit you a second time before you went down. He got to her then, but she kicked you in the ribs as he pulled her away. She had on heavy shoes. But I think you are healed."

Eric spoke with distaste and his voice sounded strained.

"Is it really okay that I had even more of your blood, Eric? I had Pam's blood, too? I mean isn't there a point where it just gets to be too much and…"

"You hadn't had any in three years, Lover. You've only had a bit since you've been here. And you haven't lost your own blood this time, so it's not like it was when you were injured that time and needed so much. It will be fine. You'll just have to trust me. I can feel how much would be too much. And you were really injured by the woman. Pam gave you a bit to slow down whatever was going on because you lost consciousness. She was very worried."

I really was afraid to ask but had to.

"What are you going to do with her, this Charlotte person? She's a human, right? What are you going to do with her, Eric?"

"I believe that Rasul and Cadel have already taken care of things."

I cringed.

"What does 'taken care of things' mean, Eric?"

He inclined his head around to look at me and said,

"I'm not sure, but since Rasul really likes you, I'm not thinking it means anything particularly good for her. And considering that you were knocked out and beaten up in my own compound, I really don't give a damn what they do with her, Sookie. They could string her up and have a feast for all I care. It would probably be better than what I'd do to her, I assure you. You should be glad I wasn't here. As soon as Pam is back, I'm going downstairs to have a little conversation with the rest of the residents to make a few things abundantly clear. No one is ever going to touch you here again."

Now that it was evident I was okay, I could feel his anger. But I felt uneasy. Unless the attack was totally random there was only one reason that I could see that someone would go after me. Jealousy. And I had felt just a snippet of something like jealousy right before that spur of the moment idea of hitting me crystallized in the woman's mind. She'd been a strong broadcaster and her thoughts were... jealous.

"Eric, you weren't sleeping with her, were you? You wouldn't… you wouldn't let them kill someone you'd slept with if she was jealous and attacked me, right? Because she was jealous." He didn't answer right away. "Eric?" I tried to turn to look back at him. Frankly, the very idea that Rasul and Cadel might be killing this woman was so upsetting I could hardly stand it.

Eric was silent for another minute and then said,

"She was Cadel's. And then Stefan's. I had never even fed from her, Lover. I was not interested. I have not been interested in anyone for some time."

Before I could ask what he meant by that, Pam came in after knocking once and looked at me cautiously.

"She's fine," said Eric, effortlessly lifting me up over his leg so that he could get up. "I'm going to go and have a little chat with people downstairs."

"How many humans live here? " I asked quietly before he rose.

"About twenty-five, at any given point. Sometimes more when we have guests. Pam keep an eye on her."

I grabbed his hand, looked up at him and said, "Eric, if she's still there, you can't let them kill her, okay? I mean you just can't. Make her leave, or let me call the police and press charges against her, but you guys can't just kill her. She did it to _me_, and I'm telling you, it's wrong. It's just wrong."

He stared down at me and a chill ran up my spine. She was less than nothing in his eyes, I could see. I wasn't sure whether it was because she had attacked me or because she was just food in his eyes, food that had gone bad. Food, I reminded myself. The people downstairs are food in the eyes of most people here. You get more food when you have company. You get rid of food when it goes bad or you decide you don't like it anymore. I looked down and away and didn't comment further. He reached out to turn my face back to him and stroked my cheek, then left the room without a word. But I could feel what I'd said had made absolutely no difference in his mind. I thought about the living areas downstairs, which I'd not even seen, and realized it was like one great big pantry for vampires. I really wondered in a way what had made me so different in all their minds. It wasn't just that I was Eric's. It predated that, really. Was it the telepathy? Luck? The fact that I would never go offering myself as a live-in snack to a vampire? The way I saw vampires, that is a more human side to them? Well, I could be sure I'd never get a straight answer on the topic. And as bad as things might have ever gotten from being _around_ vampires, I certainly couldn't say they'd ever done much to directly harm me. But I wasn't so sure about the food downstairs getting harmed. They were obviously rather expendable.

I looked over at Pam.

"Pam, did they already kill her? Will they kill her? Tell me the truth."

She pursed her lips and looked at me with disapproval.

"Rasul apparently started to drain her and then thought better of it out of respect for what he believes are your… 'principles'. He healed her wounds and glamoured her heavily and then he and Cadel dumped her off at a hospital where they assume she will be cared for. Eric is going to be furious. I know I am. If she comes back, I will personally drain her dry and have her discarded to the nearest crematorium. She's after Eric, trying to get involved somehow with him. She's like a stalker, as far as I'm concerned, and I'm not too fond of her for going after you with a cast iron skillet, either."

I must have visibly relaxed, because she continued, saying

"You have such a deleterious effect on us at times, Sookie. Honestly, as much as I enjoy you, you really have a very bad effect on our judgment. Rasul should have just had done with her."

"Pam, you simply cannot tell me that the woman deserved to die because she hit me, okay? I mean, really, you just can't."

"She could have killed you, Sookie. You clearly are still not thinking straight at present. She could have _killed you._ Because she was after Eric. I told Stefan that. She was working her way up in her mind. First Cadel, then Stefan. It was obvious. Not that Eric would have shown interest since he's been so…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "In any case, if she comes back, I'll personally drain her dry. If you want, I'll say I'm doing it in the name of protecting Eric and not because she went after you, okay? Lie to yourself. Just think to yourself 'Pam won't do anything to anyone who tries to kill me'. You know, Eric told me you let him glamour you once. When you were injured, in Jackson? I'd be happy to fix things here for you. How about you let me glamour some sense into your stubborn head? Because really, Sookie, you need to get a better grip on reality at times."

"Pam, my grip on reality is quite fine thank you but it doesn't extend to people seeking retribution on my behalf. If what she did was wrong we can get a police report and I can press charges against her for assault. Personally, given how spur of the moment it was, I'm really thinking she's kind of unbalanced. Forgive me if I think that killing the mentally ill is rather medieval and I want no part of it, okay?"

I couldn't think of a single time when I'd really argued with Pam before. But what she thought about the situation was just plain wrong in my book.

We had sort of a tense silence for a while and then finally I said,

"Eric said you gave me some of your blood, Pam. Thank you. I appreciate it."

"Now I'm stuck with having to _feel _you until it wears off. You're such a pain in the ass, Sookie. I really don't know why I like you so much. You're as stubborn as a mule. And as for all your qualms about Charlotte, just remember, we're vampires. No matter what the publicists for the American Vampire League will tell you, we're not exactly sweet. Get over it."

"I love you too, Pam. But really, thanks."

Eric came back in with Stefan. Stefan stood in front of me and bowed his head and apologized to me yet again. I felt myself blush and couldn't meet his eyes at all. Why on earth was he apologizing to me when _he_ hadn't done anything wrong in?

"Stefan, you cannot possibly be held responsible for the actions of another, independent person. There is nothing to apologize for, so I can't accept your apology."

I finally looked up at him and he looked at me as if puzzled.

"Thank you for bringing me back upstairs," I reiterated.

He just stared at me. Finally, Eric just waved him away.

After he left the room, Eric said,

"Because she was his, he _is_ held responsible according to custom. He believes that you do not forgive him for the offense."

"Well, I guess you're going to have to explain my pathetic human rationale to him Eric, because I'm not forgiving him for something he had absolutely nothing to do with, okay? To me that would be insulting him. I'm supposed to be yours, right? _You_ fix it."

Eric and Pam looked at me and then at each other as if I was being petulant.

I rose and said,

"I'm going downstairs to get something to eat."

Eric hesitated and then said,

"Let me have whatever you wish brought up to you."

"I'm fine. I really feel fine. And I'm hungry. Pam said that the woman isn't even in the compound anymore, so it should be fine."

"I would prefer to have something brought up for you. At least for tonight. We're all getting ready for the rest of the work for tonight. I would prefer to have you accompanied in future."

He had to be kidding. I stood there with my arms crossed.

"So then it's not even safe for me to go downstairs on my own and get something to eat? Geez, my instincts were right all along. Iraq _is_ safer than Louisiana. Who knew?"

He looked at me as if I'd struck him. I just winced as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Pam looked away, biting her lip.

Okay, what was _wrong_ with me? I asked myself. I didn't blame Stefan for the fact that his girlfriend, or whatever she was, went after me but I was going to take it out on Eric? Clearly Eric felt bad about the whole thing. He had said again and again that he would keep me safe and now I had been knocked out cold, gotten head trauma, and had been kicked hard enough to crack a few ribs. In his own compound. He could keep me safe from vampires and maybe even other supes, but the humans here might be another story, I thought. Of course, I'd blithely assured him only two days before that _I_ could handle humans. Crazy women swinging skillets at my head clearly didn't enter my thoughts. To make it even better, I realized he must have known that I was getting hurt, yet again. Not even forty-eight hours since the last time. And hurt much worse this time. Did I really have to be such a jerk about it? At least Rasul had stopped before anything happened that I wouldn't want to live with, so why did I have to be so nasty?

I made good on my promise to be more considerate. I sat back down on the couch and said,

"Okay. I'll let you get something sent up. And I apologize for what I said." I paused for a moment and then clarified further, "I am actually ashamed of what I said. It was mean. The Iraq comment was totally uncalled for. I shouldn't be making light of Iraq because I know better. And I shouldn't be slamming you. If it's not Stefan's fault, it's even less your fault, Eric. It just happened. There was a crazy lady living here and what she did was no one's fault."

I sat there and checked out the really good manicure I'd gotten on Friday evening. Still no chips. And I reflected on the fact that sometimes my temper was more caustic than lye.

"What would you like to eat?" said Pam finally, since Eric was just silent.

"I guess whatever they're having downstairs. I remember smelling cooking food."

"You have no preferences?"

I hesitated. "Is it really safe to eat the food?" I asked her, biting my lip. I mean, if I wasn't even safe _going_ downstairs, then…

And then even Pam hesitated and tipped her head at a slight angle, thoughtfully. A wrinkle she clearly hadn't considered until now. Well, that did it. I was going to solve the problem for myself.

"This is just silly. I'm going to call Amelia and ask her if she can meet me somewhere. I'll just go out to get something. It's only what? 9 or 9:30 pm? If Amelia can't go then we can get one of Bennett Tucker's Weres, right?" I rose and looked at Eric. "Can I get my phone? And my purse?"

Eric seemed to be lost in what looked like very troubled thought. Instead of the very calm expression that he usually tried to project, for a change he looked about like what he appeared to feel, which seemed to be a rarified blend of frustrated and full fanged really, really angry. He scowled, glanced at his watch and then said to Pam tersely,

"I'll be a few minutes late." It was then that I realized he was in yet another suit and clearly dressed for a business meeting. Of course, I'd seen him dress but somehow the earlier part of the evening was a little jumbled after getting hit in the head. He'd gone to a Regional Planning Commission meeting with Markus and Andor accompanying him, and then had come back to the compound for further meetings.

He extended his hand to me and when I took it he latched on firmly and led me toward the stairs. But instead of going up, we went down. He drew me through the corridors away from the kitchens and we passed a series of mostly open doors to what appeared to be something akin to college dorm rooms. He came to one that was closed and summarily opened it without even knocking, disturbing Andor, who was feeding from the neck of a topless woman sitting on his lap with her back against his chest. Eric growled something at him in a language which sounded to my ears like it was vaguely Scandinavian but not exactly what he usually spoke, either.

Andor sealed up the woman's neck, lifted her off his lap and tossed her shirt to her. He looked up at Eric and nodded his head toward me and replied to Eric. They had a brief verbal exchange punctuated by Andor making a sweeping gesture, waving toward Eric and me. His manner seemed to suggest agreeing with whatever it was that Eric was suggesting. Andor rose from the woman's bed, telling her "You must come."

Eric pulled me off toward the kitchen and a dining area. He drew me into the long dining area, which was empty, pulled out a chair at the far end of the room and turned it back toward the doorway. He nodded that I was to sit.

"Where is Andor from, Eric?"

He paced while we waited but said,

"Stavanger. In Norway. We had the same sire. He is about ten years younger."

Well, that was a shock.

"What, one big, tall blond guy just wasn't enough for him? Geez."

Eric turned to me with a dark look and snorted with a bitter laugh. "You have no idea."

But his expression only darkened further as people began to enter the room. He stood behind me and put his hand on the back of my chair. The room filled with people and all of them just stared at me. I only knew Ruben, who was the cook or chef. He looked pretty wide-eyed and nervous. Andor filled the doorway at the back after having pushed the last two into the room.

Eric crossed his arms and said in a voice so cold and hard that I didn't think I'd ever have recognized it as his,

"This is my wife. And just to drive home the point of what I told you earlier, let me make things even simpler for you. If a single one of you is responsible for any harm to her, I'll kill the whole lot of you. Every single one of you. And I won't be quick about it, either. So you should have a vested interest in making sure she is safe and keeping me, and those who serve me, happy. If you don't like it, leave. There are plenty to replace you. Now all of you get out. Except for Ruben."

I could hardly breathe. Officially saying I was his wife in the same undead breath as threatening to kill _everyone_? A lot to absorb there... I swallowed hard as I looked straight ahead. Andor looked me directly in the eyes and looked calm.

You could have heard the proverbial pin drop. I felt a sea of eyes on me and heard a flurry of inner voices. Some were thrilled by the 'exciting' vampire threats, others unsettled by the idea that a mistake by one could be taken against all of them. Many of them looked at me and wondered why Eric was even making such a big fuss over plain old me. I didn't look all that young or pretty or anything. Andor started to hustle people back out the door. He wasn't particularly gentle about it either, as I saw him literally push some people out. He was nicer to the woman he'd been with, who was one of the last in the room to exit. I was glad to see them go. I just didn't get it that so many humans seemed to be fascinated by the vampire dominant and scary manner. And frankly, even though I couldn't see Eric's face, since he was still standing behind me, he was sounding pretty scary. I didn't think that I'd ever heard Eric sound quite like that, not even when he was looking to find Bill a number of years before and _trying _to scare me.

Ruben, the cook, stood off on the other side of the long table in the dining area. Andor took him by the arm and pulled him over to Eric. Ruben looked shaken and now fearful.

Eric just loomed over the man, who was only a little taller than I was, and who was presently trembling. I guess the fact that I had been banged up in his kitchen in tandem with Eric's threats did not instill a lot of comfort.

"Ruben," said Eric in a softer voice, "you will make whatever the lady wants for meals at least twice a day. If there is anything wrong with her food, I will hold _you _personally responsible. Do you understand?"

Ruben blanched. "Yes, Mr. Northman."

Well, I thought to myself, I wonder how long before he quits?

Eric signaled that Ruben should return to the kitchen and then turned to Andor and said something in whatever language, I guess Norse, that they shared. Then he turned to me and said, as he helped me rise from the seat,

"Andor will stay with you while you eat and then take you back upstairs to wait in Pam's office. We'll be busy for a while, perhaps another hour or two for Pam. I'll send Pam to get you something to read while you wait. Just rest while you wait for us, Lover."

He looked at me as if to assess how upset I was with what he'd said to the other humans. I was unsettled and I guess he could clearly tell. Yes, it was kind of unsettling to think the person I was having sex with and sleeping next to every day had just threatened to kill an entire room full of people. Slowly.

He stroked the nape of my neck and said in a soft voice,

"We'll talk later, Lover."

Then he kissed my forehead before leaving to go upstairs.

Andor turned to me and gestured that I should go head into the kitchen, then followed after me after pushing the chair back under the table.

Ruben looked at me nervously and asked me what I'd like to eat. I said I'd just have leftovers from whatever he'd made earlier. He offered to make me something fresh but I insisted leftovers were fine. He had some roasted chicken and vegetables that he took out of the refrigerator. I told him I'd serve myself and he left the kitchen. I pulled up a stool to the kitchen island counter and sat down to eat. Andor pulled up another stool and sat next to me. He didn't seem bothered by watching me eat. His manner was relaxed. I tried to relax, too. While we sat, I asked him how long he had been living in the US.

"Only since this year basically. I arrived in late December to help."

I quickly calculated and realized he meant he arrived in time to help take out Felipe and Felipe's people.

"Eric said you had the same sire."

He nodded with a bitter look on his face.

Without meeting his eyes, and while cutting my chicken breast into bite sized pieces, I asked,

"Was it very bad, Andor? Was Ocella very bad?"

He recoiled ever so slightly at the name and I glanced up and met his eyes. I had never really been close enough to get a good look at him. He was easily a foot taller than I was. I knew that he, and Markus, were kind of Eric's enforcers. But now, sitting at the counter almost next to him, in the bright kitchen light, I realized that he must have been much younger than Eric when he was turned. Still a teenager. His eyes were light blue and he had freckles. His hair was very light blond, almost white, and he had it tied in a pony tail that was wrapped with a criss-crossing leather cord. In spite of the fact that he was slightly taller, heavier and even more muscular than Eric, he had a sensitive face. He had been so very young. He seemed to grasp my thoughts.

"I was in my seventeenth summer when he caught me. I had never even been to fight. I had never been away from my family and had just married. Ocella was a hard man. He had been in the Legion. I had never seen such things. If Eric had not still been with him, I would have found a way to meet the sun. Eric kept him distracted, tried to give me more time to adjust. Ocella would get angry and sometimes punish him for it. Eric was much stronger than I was. More resilient. After a long time he released us. But after Stefan, we put an end to him. He was cruel to Stefan. Stefan was more like Eric. Resistant, and always trying to fight being compelled. But Ocella was even worse by then. It was many hundreds of years later. He would summon us all sometimes." He seemed to dwell on that thought for a moment and looked totally repelled. "Being with Ocella was more than bad. He taught you many things. Most of which you would rather not know," he said shaking his head as he glanced over at me.

I nodded and said quietly, "Eric told me some things. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry if my asking bothered you. I am glad you are all free of him, Andor."

Internally, I just shuddered to think of it. At least Ocella was dead, I thought, which I had wondered about. The revelation that he had also turned Andor and Stefan was just chilling. He obviously had had a thing for tall, blond haired and blue-eyed men. It was really kind of sick. Imagine having your entire human life ruined because of an accident of your genes, I thought to myself. But I guessed that attraction was attraction. Clearly Eric liked blue-eyed blondes himself, since he'd turned Pam and wanted me. But Eric's manner of 'ownership' if that's what you could call it, was so benevolent compared to what Andor seemed to hint at. It made me understand something of why Eric was the way he was, both with Pam and with those who owed him fealty. The idea of Eric being compelled, cowed and forced to do things, sexual or otherwise, that he found offensive really chilled me. It put his comments about my surviving Neave and Lochlan in a slightly different light. Going through hell and still being yourself was obviously something that held great personal meaning for Eric. Only I guess his hell had lasted a lot longer than an hour or two. He said Andor was about ten years younger than he was, and Andor said that Ocella hadn't released them for a long time. I shivered at the thought.

My appetite was gone thinking about it all, so I rose and started cleaning up after myself. As soon as I ran the faucet, Ruben came running, looking all concerned.

"I can clean up after myself, thanks," I said quietly. He stood watching me, hovering, hoping that I would just leave him to it and go away. He was very worried about how to keep everyone safe. I felt bad and stopped reading his thoughts. "Thank you, Ruben. I'm very sorry for all the fuss. Do you prefer to send something upstairs for me from now on? I want to do what will cause you the least amount of trouble. I don't want you to feel you should quit."

He hung his head. "I can't quit. I am ill and I need the blood. I get a bit of blood every week. It keeps me healthy. I will arrange something. Sending things upstairs would be easier. I can do three meals or more if you wish it. I will deliver them to you. Although Miss Pam said that tomorrow I have to pack food for you, because you will go out with her before eating." He looked over at me. "Thank you, Mrs. Northman. Thank you for your kindness."

I wasn't so sure that I was comfortable being called Mrs. Northman. Especially considering Mr. Northman's threats.

Andor gestured that we should go back upstairs. As we went back up I said,

"In a way I guess you and Eric are almost like siblings, then. In a vampire sense."

Andor looked down at me and nodded. He smiled slightly, but said no more.

Pam had left several books on her desk for me to choose from. _Middlemarch_, _Daniel Deronda _and _Little Dorrit _were all so long I didn't think I'd be able to finish the book before the end of my stay and I didn't want to take one of Eric's books back to Virginia and chance losing it or having something happen to it. I settled on _Emma_ and started reading. Emma was a rather annoying character in some ways. She was bright but so stubborn and infuriating. I hadn't read the book in a long time, but remembered thinking that Mr. Knightley had the patience of a glacier to have dealt with her. As I started reading the book, I glanced over and looked at the two very thick George Eliot novels and then wondered if selecting them along with the several hundreds of pages shorter _Emma_ was deliberate on Pam's part. Perhaps Pam thought that I, too, was stubborn and infuriating. If she had intended the analogy, it was hard to take it any further currently, at least in my mind, because I had a very hard time envisioning the older and very patient Mr. Knightley threatening to kill more than twenty people if even one of them did anything to Emma. I thought of Eric making such a threat and told myself that surely he didn't mean it. Another part of me was not quite sure he didn't. The vision of the Eric that Andor described seemed incongruous with the Eric who had promised collateral damage if any one of the downstairs 'food' harmed me again. And this was the same Eric who was so gentle and affectionate with me, who worried that he could hurt me? The look on his face when I had talked about Charlotte just chilled me. I thought of what he had said several nights before, that he thought that maybe what had bothered me was that I had fallen for a vampire. I had scoffed at the idea, but I guess that I hadn't had many opportunities in recent times to reacquaint myself with what vampires were really like. It made me realize that Eric was insulating me from a lot of things. His takeover, the problems with the Area 2 vampires, some of whom had been rendered finally dead that second night that I was here, when Pam had been instructed to keep me nicely and safely on the other side of the building. Violence was just a slap of supernatural reality.

I was already on page 126 when Pam came back to her office shortly after 2 am. She seemed amused that I had selected _Emma_.

"I figured it was more likely I'd be able to finish it before I leave, but it's going pretty quickly."

"Yes, it's a quick read. Emma is so endearing, isn't she? I just want to drain her, turn her and compel her to behave herself." She smiled with her fangs down ever so slightly.

"I wondered if you were trying to send a subtle message with the choice of _Emma_, Pam."

"What message? A book about a stubborn, headstrong, and difficult young woman? I don't know what you could possibly mean, Sookie."

She sat down at her desk and started working, typing at lightning speed on her keyboard. After a few moments she said,

"We're still on for the shooting range tomorrow evening? I don't have anything on my schedule for tomorrow until after 11 pm."

"That's fine," I said quietly.

After a long pause, I said,

"Pam, do you resent me?"

She craned her head around her computer monitor and looked at me with narrow eyes.

"I have no interest in conversations loaded with emotional revelations, Sookie. I'm working here."

Geez, I guess that's a yes, I thought to myself. I went back to reading and tried not to ruminate on that point. Finally, almost fifteen minutes later, Pam said from behind her monitor,

"I do not resent you. I wish you were kinder to my sire. But I have told you this before and it made no difference in your manner. While I don't believe that you are as callous as your manner makes you seem, I do think that you fail to see that your distrust is so often misplaced and your manner hurtful."

I stared at her and blushed.

"You think I'm callous? Why? Because of what I said earlier tonight? I apologized. And I felt bad that I said what I did."

"That was just the latest example. You do it all the time, Sookie, all the time. Unchanged for years. Your manner, more than what you say. I really don't know what you want from Eric. You're bound to him. You should be able to know how he feels and that he just doesn't deserve what you throw at him. I know you're damaged but honestly, Sookie, you need to wise up. No one is an infinite well of patience and forgiveness."

"You think I'm bad with Eric, then?" Damaged. Pam says I'm _damaged_? I thought to myself.

"No. I think you are distrustful and deliberately distant. Not 'bad'. Although occasionally, like tonight, you are so cutting that it makes even me shrink. But I am hardly one to chide you for sarcasm. Why show up, however, just to be distant? Why bother? If you're really so reticent about the relationship, tell him to get lost so he can get over it already. But don't jerk him around again, Sookie. He really doesn't deserve it. And to be distracted by you at this particular juncture would be more dangerous than ever. The consequences were already heavy enough in the past."

She then went back to typing rapidly on her keyboard. Could she feel my present sense of distance or reserve because I was worried about what Eric had said downstairs? But still, Pam calling me distant was the pot calling the kettle black.

"I really think it's something, you're talking to me about being cool or distant, Pam."

"Trust me Sookie, I know of whence I speak."

"Is this from Dear Abby? Lizzie Bennet's advice to her sister Jane?"

"No, my friend, it is from real life observation. Of you. And knowing what it's like not to trust easily myself. There's a reason why I'm still here a hundred and fifty years later. There's a reason why people who have known Eric for a thousand years are here."

"I know why Andor is here. He told me. And, I guess, the same for Stefan."

"And don't forget Cadel," she said.

"Cadel? Cadel, too? But Cadel's dark-haired…" I said, surprised. "Not Markus, as well?"

Pam erupted into laughter.

"They tell jokes about it. Evidently there really aren't a lot of blonds in Wales. No, Markus is actually Andor's child. He was part of their plan to get rid of their sire. I'm not sure of the all details. Andor evidently had to turn him or he would have died, or something. But it's not just the sibling survivors of Eric's sire. Look at Rasul, at Maxwell, even Bill. Everyone in Area 5 that helped us. There has to be a reason for all our loyalty, after so long for some of us. Certainly mine is the only one that could be compelled. And Eric has rarely compelled me to do anything. Other than perhaps being quiet. No, Eric is very decent, Sookie. He likes people to be happy. He, himself, tends to be very happy. He is not a dark and tortured vampire. Unless of course, it comes to you. So think about how he got that way. There's a mirror over there if you need assistance," she said acerbically giving me a sharp look.

She suddenly resumed typing and looked busy referring to a couple of documents on her desk, just in time for Eric to enter the office. He looked tired and somewhat annoyed. He eyed Pam as he sat down on the couch, but said nothing. Then he looked at me and tapped the space to his left on the couch. I rose and sat next to him. He wrapped his arm around me, pulled me closer and kissed me.

"Your head continues to feel better, Lover?" he murmured to me.

I nodded. I felt odd, confused about what I felt and thought about Eric.

"And you ate well?"

I nodded again, thinking about what Pam had been saying, while looking up at Eric's face. He seemed so very complex in my eyes, now. More so than he ever had before.

He looked at the spine of the book I was holding, with my index finger keeping my place.

"_Emma_? She gave you _Emma_?" He made a face. "That's such a silly Austen book." He glanced over at Pam and shook his head. "A frivolous Austen heroine. I only finished it so that I could argue with Pam about her incredibly bad taste. She'll tell you some garbage about social constraints." He looked back at me. "You like Tolstoy. What about Flaubert? James? Thackeray? Galsworthy? Or Wharton. Fitzgerald? More Dickens? So many choices better than _Emma_. Maybe go more modern. Kundera? Ondaatje? Pamuk?" He shook his head as he looked darkly back over at Pam. He sat up slightly to see what else was on her desk and groaned. "She's going to make you read _Middlemarch_, Sookie. If you keep coming back, she'll eventually make you read it, one way or another. She'll just look for any excuse. Any slight. Watch yourself, Lover. She discussed _Middlemarch_ for the better part of a decade back in the 20's."

Pam went on typing faster than I could even think or speak. Steadfastly ignoring Eric. And Eric looked... tired. If that was possible for a vampire.

"You look tired," I said softly.

He seemed hesitant and then finally said,

"If I asked you to do me a favor, would you _not_ take it the wrong way? Not think I was trying to use you or something? Just consider it my asking you for help?"

"Well, without knowing what it is, I can't say if I'll take it the wrong way. What's the favor?"

"I would like you to listen at a meeting with someone. A project manager who is a holdover from the previous regime. I have a feeling the person isn't honest but I haven't been able to put my finger on it. A lot of people are invested in the project and I have concerns but we haven't been able to turn up anything to confirm my intuition. Cadel has been looking into it for weeks but found nothing concrete... I think the man is very clever. But I'm sure there is something wrong there. Would you mind doing this for me? I meet with him tomorrow night."

"I wouldn't mind as long as my same old rules apply. If the guy is robbing you blind, you call the police or handle it by legal means."

"Of course, Lover. Of course."

"And you have to promise me that if anyone downstairs goes for me, you won't kill everyone living there. Then we have a deal. I'll read people for you _any_ time I'm here if you need me to, if you agree to those two things."

"But I could glamour them all into thinking I did in everyone else and that each is the sole survivor of a bloodbath and then have them dumped in the Quarter with the thought they barely escaped with their lives?"

"No. Of course not! How much better is it to have everyone _think_ that you did that, Eric?"

He laughed at me. "I think it's certainly much better to the people who aren't dead, first of all," he said wryly. "And I have my really evil reputation to maintain, Lover."

It had never occurred to me that Eric would glamour people into thinking he was _worse_ than he really was.

"I'm serious Eric. What if they went to the police? How do you explain it then?"

"And so am I, Lover. If you glamour them well enough, they'll be afraid to go to the police. They'll just stay away from vampires for good," he said with a slight smile. "My way is better. But no matter what, if any person here harms you, that person is done for and there's nothing that you're going to tell any of us to make us do otherwise. I've already talked to Rasul. That mistake will not be made again. It sets an unacceptable precedent of tolerance for something I will _not_ tolerate. So you better get over that idea. It's _non-negotiable_, as you like to say." He said this with a real edge to his voice.

From behind the desk, Pam said "You've got dibs but we're taking turns, okay?"

"I think not. But I have already told them all that if I am unavailable that you are in charge and that no decision is to be made without consulting you. Rasul overstepped. And he has been reminded that he did."

I guess I had to be seriously vigilant if I went downstairs. I hoped that Ruben's arrangements would work out. I changed the subject.

"What time is your meeting tomorrow? I promised to go to the shooting range with Pam so she can learn how to handle a gun."

I could almost see Pam smiling behind her computer monitor over the fact that I was honoring my plan with her.

"We can switch it to 11 pm, if that will work for you both. Pushing it back for my convenience lets him remember who is in charge, anyway. I'll have Stefan contact him through our day person."

I tried to shift my thoughts away from the whole situation with the people downstairs. I was lost in thought for a while and then finally said,

"Could I use a phone here tomorrow in the early evening to call someone? I don't want to use my cell phone to make the call."

Eric turned to me and frowned. "Of course you can." He shook his head as if amazed I'd even ask such a question. He didn't ask whom I wanted to call but I could tell he was curious.

I looked away and said, "I want to call Jason. I keep thinking about how Bill described him on Saturday. He said he's not doing well. He must feel very alone. It's making me feel very guilty the more I think about it. Maybe when I come back next month, he can drive down with Bill and Sam. I could put him up in a hotel for the night. But first I want to just talk to him and… apologize."

"Use my cell phone to call him, Lover." Eric said as he massaged my shoulder.

Pam looked at me from across the room and smiled with an amused look on her face. "So you are already coming back next month? So soon? Careful. We might think you like it here."

I was actually planning for more than next month. In fact, I had already set the plans in motion in the afternoon, before all the commotion. Pam seemed to think that I was so 'reticent' but I had tried to set the next two months of vacation, in accordance with my discussion with Eric the previous day. Now I was a bit uneasy with the plans. I tried to focus on the idea that Eric's statements to the people downstairs were just bluffing. That he was being clever. That the Eric I loved wouldn't _really _do anything so horrifying as what he had suggested. It would be fine, I told myself.

"I emailed personnel late this afternoon and asked for the third week of July and the third week of August and copied my boss. I think I can still hear _his_ boss's explosive response all the way here in Louisiana. As Ahmed would say, he was probably seriously hacked off."

Eric seemed surprised.

"I thought you were so concerned about whether they would even let you keep working. Now you're telling them you want more vacation without resolving things first? It's the opposite of what you said you'd do."

"I know. I also wrote to my boss suggesting that they just find a vampire in one of the intelligence branches and try to get him or her to glamour me. I mean, it's the simplest and most straightforward way to address what their real concern is. I've really been thinking about it. Somebody has to have vampires working intelligence. Glamouring people is a great way to get information or make people forget they gave the information or make them even forget they had the information in the first place. And vampires would be terrific at surveillance. They're so stealthy and quiet. If you have one that can fly, you don't even have to worry about dropping them too close to a target. Maybe even for assassination purposes. I'm betting that both the CIA and NSA have vampires working for them at this point. The FBI has Weres. That I know for certain. Anyway, maybe that will just do it for them. If I can prove I can't be glamoured, they have nothing to complain about unless they just don't like vampires, right? That's the only reason they can possibly have to be concerned. That I could be used for access to classified information."

I felt like I was almost convincing myself on the point. The person I needed to convince the most was Manny's boss, Chuck Powell. Chuck had never really exactly liked me. He thought 'soft' interrogation had only limited use. And Chuck had absolutely no problem with the idea of using whatever 'enhanced' means were necessary to get information out of people. Of course the quality of the information was the issue to me. We had little respect, and something even bordering on active dislike, for one another.

I guess because Eric was so pleased I'd already requested the weeks in July and August, he didn't say anything further about the situation or start questioning if I could move or what was going to happen when I ran out of PTO, or really any of the stuff that got me stressed. Which was fine with me because I really didn't want more stress. He just pulled me closer. I leaned my head on his shoulder and we sat on Pam's couch, while Pam explained to Eric why even _Emma_ was a better read than the 'vile' _Crime and Punishment._ She could barely keep a straight face, but I genuinely admired her efforts. As we rose to leave her office, she mentioned that she thought my hair looked lovely in spite of my having been smacked in the head several times. I just laughed at her shaking my head.

Eric went to speak to Stefan before we went upstairs. I found Rasul watching TV with Andor. They were watching soccer. He looked up at me, a bit edgily. I wondered what Pam, and then Eric, had said to him after he'd let Charlotte live. I sat next to him and just took his arm in mine. We didn't talk. I was sure the gesture was enough to convey my gratitude for his understanding me so well and sympathy for it having gotten him in trouble. I knew he wouldn't ever be able to do something like that again, but I could be grateful for what he had done. Five minutes later Eric entered the room with Stefan. He looked rather stonily at Rasul but said nothing. I rose and as I passed Stefan, I smiled at him. I guess Eric had tried to explain something about my thoughts on Charlotte to him because he smiled back and seemed more at ease. I said good night to the three of them and we headed upstairs.

As I started to undress, Eric came over to help me, undoing my bra and then wrapping his arms around me from behind. He bent his head lower and pressed his face against the side of my head. I shivered.

"You are still unsettled," he said in a low voice that rumbled through me.

"What you said frightened me. It frightened me from a moral standpoint and it frightens me because I work for the Justice Department, Eric. You threatened to commit murder. Mass murder. Because of me."

"To protect you."

"Well, I'm not comfortable with that. Not at all."

"I already told you exactly what I'd do Sookie. And I can assure you that I'm one of the most reasonable of my kind that you are ever going to meet. I care about what's mine, about my people, and only secondarily about some rather sketchily designed laws. If someone has intended to harm you, _seriously_ harm you, they are open fare. What I said is a guarantee for your safety. You should be pragmatic enough to realize that by now. My way of doing business has been successful for centuries. I think you should trust me to know what I'm doing and how I do it."

I felt so tense. He turned me around and tipped my chin so that I would look up at him. I could see his eyes glowing softly. The only real light in the room came from the lamp out in the library. He pulled me closer to the nightstand and turned on the light so that I could see his face more clearly. He took hold of my jaw this time, firmly but gently, to make me look up at him. I swallowed hard looking at his face, which looked like a frightening blend of masculine beauty and predatory power, with his fangs fully down and his eyes boring into me.

"So in the end, there _is_ an issue with my being a vampire, isn't there? I frighten you? Repel you? Do you think I would do what I said to those people downstairs? Yes or no?" he asked in a voice that was edgy enough to make me slightly scared.

My pulse accelerated and I struggled to get it better under control, breathing deeply. I looked him directly in the eyes.

"Do I think you have the ability to do that? Yes. Of course, you're a vampire. Do I think you'd really _do_ something like that?" I paused and glanced down, swaying slightly in his grasp as I took a deep breath. "No. I just...No, Eric. I just can't believe that the same person I know, who can be so gentle would be capable of doing that. It would be so wrong and totally unfair and unjust. I... " I shook my head in his hand. I really just couldn't see it. I couldn't even see him getting anyone else to do it on his orders, either. "No," I said finally and firmly looking back into his eyes. I trusted him. The Eric I knew was a good person, just as I had said the night before to him. "I meant what I said yesterday. And I still think it's true. You're a good person. Being a vampire doesn't make you bad person." I actually wondered how much harder it must be to be good when you had a kind of power that could so easily be abused.

I reached up and touched his cheek. He caught my hand with his and kissed the palm of my hand. His face softened and his fangs began to retract somewhat. He gazed at me, wearily.

"Du är så mycket problem, min älskade. A _lot_ of trouble," he chuckled softly. "But I've always loved trouble." He kissed me. "Let's go to bed. It's late."

We got undressed and I got into bed, and I thought again to myself that Eric seemed genuinely tired. I'd never exactly seen him tired before like he was tonight. I guess it was really like an emotional or mental thing, since physically it seemed vampires never tired unless they lost a lot of blood. We lay propped up in bed, reading until close to dawn. He picked up my hand and just held it, until he needed to turn a page, or until I did.

I read slowly, somewhat lost in thought. I was reflecting on my conversation with Pam. Distrustful, damaged, deliberately distant. _Callous_. Such harsh words. Were all these qualities really mine? Even though I'd disagreed with Pam about handling Charlotte, no one could argue about Pam being a shrewd judge of character. Pam would have seen Arlene's turnabout after the Were revelation coming a mile away. She had warned me months before that Arlene was not my friend. She had seen through Charlotte's scheming. Long ago she had told Eric to tell me the flat out truth about Bill as they knew it at the time. What Pam said she saw in me was unsettling to me. I thought about what she said about all the people who trusted Eric. It didn't matter to me that they were vampires who trusted Eric. If anything, it was almost more telling because it didn't seem to me that vampires were too trusting of anyone, even each other.

I looked back over what I knew of Eric's behavior with respect to me and had to say that he was always pretty protective of me, even if conveniently mutually so. Going back to the beginning, when he had staked Long Shadow for attacking me. He certainly hadn't always been as nice as he was at present with me, but I couldn't really pinpoint a time when I thought he done me any real harm. Even his threatening long ago to torture me to get the info about what Bill was up to had a different spin in my mind after hearing his thoughts about what he'd do with the people downstairs if anyone hurt me. I remembered his saying at the time, after telling Pam and Chow to leave, that he was just saying that for Chow's benefit and maintaining his reputation… I hadn't known what to believe at the time. Now I thought he'd probably really meant just that. He'd almost apologized for scaring me and had gone far out of his way to protect me in Jackson. I'd trusted him enough to even let him glamour me then, the only time I'd ever let anyone do so. There was that time he'd tried to really scare me, after I'd taken care of him, when I'd been shot. He had scared me, but then he ended up trying to protect me from Mickey only moments later. And really, in the months that followed, he hadn't even stuck to his words that his interest in safeguarding me would only continue until there was a conflict with his own safety or those of his people. Clancy had died protecting me. Eric put himself at great risk protecting me. Eric talked hard, and I knew he could probably really be hard, but it seemed like he was very careful about meting that hardness out. I remember Pam telling me when I arrived that Victor Madden's unfair treatment of Maxwell had tipped Eric over some edge. I gathered Eric had been quite hard on Victor. I didn't even want to imagine what they'd done to him. It seemed that Eric followed some internal code, just as I'd sort of recognized in our conversation about fidelity. He _did_ have a sense of justice and fairness even if, for the sake of expedience, he was willing to make it _seem_ otherwise. I thought about what Pam had implied about trusting Eric more. Why would I even be in a relationship at all with someone I couldn't trust? The answer was that, really, I wouldn't be. I had _always_ trusted him in so many ways, even almost foolishly so. And yet I was still so guarded about being able to trust his feelings for me in return.

I glanced over at Eric and saw that it must be past dawn already because he was just out, with the book still in his hand. I took the book out of his hand, noting the page. It was something in German by Thomas Mann, an author I'd never read. I looked at the German text and wondered exactly how many languages Eric spoke. I even found myself wondering when Eric had learned to read, as in what century, and thinking about his collection of books. I knew that books had only been available within the past few centuries for people outside of universities, churches and for the wealthy. He seemed to really treasure his books. After so many centuries of wandering, I guessed it was a luxury to own so many books and to have a nice place to keep them. He must have been delighted to find that Pam liked to read, I thought to myself with a smile. It still amazed me that Pam seemed to harbor no ill will toward Eric for his having turned her. Personally, I'd have a hard time not holding a grudge against someone killing me and turning me vampire for, um, 'companionship'. It was after all, exactly what had happened to Eric himself. But Pam seemed to think it all worked out swell. Of course, my own 'companionship' experience with Eric was very pleasurable, so maybe that was part of it. But still... I also thought about her saying when she had told me about her being turned that she did not love Eric. I wondered if vampires just existed in a world with no love, or very little of it. That thought just made me sad. Possessiveness wasn't love. Eric had said once to me that he didn't like having feelings. None of them seemed to want to have feelings. To me, you loved your closest friends, at the least. I couldn't imagine living centuries without loving or being loved. It seemed that Eric did have vampire friends, if Andor, Stefan and Cadel were an indication. I wondered at Pam's comments. She had gone off on her own and lived in Minnesota for a time but then returned at what she had characterized as Eric's request, to help with Fangtasia. Could she really not love him in _some_ sense? Where were the emotions in the vampire world I wondered?

I was finally getting sleepy as I thought about the fact that my visit was almost halfway over. In spite of having been hit in the head, and having spent a few hours being scared about what the other side of Eric might really be like, I was glad I'd come. I sighed heavily and thought to myself that I wasn't sure where things were headed but found that Eric was right. I felt more alive inside than I had in a long time. I had become a stronger, more experienced and certainly more worldly person in the past three years. But I had brushed aside some emotional inner life that, somehow, being here had managed to reconnect. Was it just the bond? Was it something in me? Would I feel dead inside when I went away? Had being here and being able to finally unburden myself even a bit about that horrible night finally released something inside me? I tried not to think about how it would feel to leave and go back home. Instead, I thought about how ironic it was that here I was thinking about how unemotional vampires seemed to be or seemed to _want_ to be, while it was a vampire who had managed to make me feel so alive again.

I set aside _Emma_ with Eric's book, rolled over and pressed my face into Eric's shoulder and drifted off into sleep.


	12. Chapter 11

**XI.**

Eric startled me by coming out almost half an hour before sunset. I was listening to music on my iPod and, when he strolled out of the bedroom, I jumped. He laughed at all my stacks of books and I guess the way I'd been moving to the music while sorting.

"You speak too many languages." I said as I removed my headphones. "I don't even know what to do with some of these. I guess they're fiction because there in here but really, who knows. Well, I mean, _you_ know. But I'm totally lost from here on," I said pointing.

"Is there a reason why you're doing this?" he asked with a chuckle.

"It was fun, until I started feeling ignorant because I don't speak German or Swedish or French or gosh knows what this one is- there are so many vowels I can't even imagine what it must sound like." I showed him a slender volume with an incomprehensible, to me, long title.

He looked at the spine and said, "Suomi. That's Finnish and I barely can read any of it myself. An experiment. A partial success. Norwegian is much easier."

He handed the book back to me and went back inside. He put on his robe and then came back out and sat next to me on the floor. He looked over at me and then laughed because I was wearing one of his t-shirts and it might a well have been a dress it was so huge on me. He kissed me and then started rapidly sorting the books in other languages.

He nodded toward my iPod.

"Spanish music?"

"Yeah. I'm missing dancing a bit. Sammy sent me an email yesterday saying his temporary partner is horrible. He's such a card. We've danced together for about a year and it's hard to adjust to a new partner. He's trying to make me feel guilty for dumping him for a vacation instead of work. But it didn't work," I said with a chuckle.

"So you like Latin dancing now, right? Like the tango?"

"MmmHmm. Do you tango?" I asked with a smile. Eric was so tall, I couldn't quite envision being able to tango with him. You really did best with a partner close to your own height. Sammy was five foot ten and when I was in two inch heels he was a perfect height for tango, rumba, salsa or whatever type of dancing I could envision.

"I haven't done much of that kind of dancing," Eric said with a snort. "Not quite my style."

"I don't think I could tango with you, anyway. I'm too short. I'd have to wear massive heels. The rumba might be too hard with the height difference, too. It doesn't have to be Latin. I just like to dance. I liked dancing with you. We haven't danced together in a long time. Not since Rhodes, if I recall. You got so mad in Rhodes," I said with a chuckle. "I wouldn't even dance with Rasul the other day, remembering how you were that night in Rhodes when I danced with Barry."

Eric seemed to want to ignore that little reminiscence.

"Where did you meet your partner? At the club you dance at?" he asked while tossing a book over near the bookcase where it was mostly nonfiction and what I guessed was philosophy.

"Oh, gosh no. I'd never just go to a club not knowing anyone and start dancing with someone. Especially not with a human because then I'd _really_ hear them, you know, from touching them. No, I met Sammy at Ahmed's parties. He's a friend of Ahmed's so I knew he was an okay guy. Ahmed is really picky about his friends. We danced at the parties and he finally convinced me to try the club and taught me how to tango, salsa and rumba. In the beginning it was a group of us was going. But eventually we were the only ones still going regularly. Sammy works at Treasury. He's a nice guy. It's good exercise and it's fun."

Eric smiled and nodded nonchalantly as he put a few books into the bookcase. I kind of got the feeling he liked it that I wouldn't just go to a club and start dancing with someone I didn't know. In some ways Eric was still pretty old fashioned where women were concerned, I thought. I still remembered with great mirth when he had stayed with me when he had amnesia and he'd basically told Jason he was a bad brother for not totally supporting me financially and saying that it wasn't safe for me to go out to work at night. Even when I thought about Eric's attitude about my work now... I just smiled.

"You don't seem to count him as a close friend, however?" he asked, about Sammy.

"No, not really" I said, shaking my head. It was odd but I was far closer to Ahmed and Alla. "I can't explain it. I like him and all. I mean certainly so, if I'm going to spend four or five hours a week dancing with the guy. But we really don't share many common interests other than music and dancing. We dance but we don't really talk about things. He's not like Ahmed or Alla, for instance."

"You're closer to them because you have to read their minds all the time for work, I suppose?"

I was actually kind of surprised that Eric was even asking about my friends. It was the first time I could recall his really being interested in other people in my life at all. Let alone _why_ I chose to be close to someone. I thought back about the fact that he hadn't been too fond of Tara when Mickey had been after her. But really, that was pretty much it.

"No. It's that I really like them. I chose them to work with them because I liked them and liked the way they think about the world. It would be very difficult to interrogate someone through the minds of an interpreter I didn't feel really comfortable with. I mean, I can do it. I can think of two times I have done it, but it's _much_ harder. Sometimes reading people's minds is extremely unpleasant and unsettling. If you don't like the interpreter's mind either then it's twice as hard. But Alla, Ahmed and I share a lot of common interests. I like their philosophy. They are not harsh in their judgments. They are patient and good listeners. We understand each other. We talk about all kinds of things. And I guess that I identify with them. Especially Ahmed. He's sort of estranged from his family. Except for his younger brother. He doesn't fit in Saudi culture, or Western culture either, exactly. The same for Alla although she's much closer to her family. Both of them have encountered prejudice in the West because of their ethnicity. And bias from their family or others for working for the US government. What they are doing is very risky in terms of perceptions in the Muslim world. Even though our work prevents torture as well as terrorism, the perception can be that they're traitors for working for the US. They are acting from very deeply principled beliefs about what is right. But still, they don't fit in either world, really. Feeling like you don't quite fit anywhere is something I guess I relate to on a very deep level."

Eric was silent, as if thoughtful about that. He looked through the remaining books.

"Do they know what happened to you?" he asked after a while.

"They know something bad happened to me. Alla saw my remaining scars, before the surgeries. She was very upset by it but said nothing. I knew from reading Ahmed that Alla told him I'd been tortured. He was very deeply shocked. They can tell I don't want to talk about it and they've never asked. I guess it was meaningful for both of them as to why I was willing to do what we're doing. Not that I know of any US interrogation treatment that was that bad, okay? Anyway, it seems like Ahmed specifically told Sammy not to ask me any personal questions about anything physical. Sammy used to ask why I stay covered so much, you know, the way I dress. Ahmed was all over him for it."

"Sookie, the scars hardly show at all. You realize that, don't you? If _I_ can hardly see most of them, to everyone else they would be…"

"My worst scars don't show at all, Eric. And lately, I'm thinking a few of those may even have been self-inflicted. But anyway, I don't want to talk about that. We should go dancing sometime. Or maybe just dance here."

He turned to look at me while I spoke, regarding me soberly. He didn't comment on the first part although I got the sense he wanted to. Instead he said,

"Speaking of Rhodes and dancing, Sean and Layla O'Rourke are going to stay here in August. I think they'll be here when you're here. They are doing a series of appearances and taking some vacation time," he said.

"They are _really_ great dancers," I said, remembering dancing with Sean in Rhodes. Layla was so beautiful. I'd thought her last name was different, though. "Did they marry? I thought she had a different last name?"

Eric nodded, while putting more of the books back onto the shelves and handing me a slender volume of Ibsen that I had mis-sorted. I squeezed it in with the two others after some rearranging.

"They did. Several years ago. Ibsen's Norwegian, not Swedish. I'm glad you have made plans to come back for the next few months, Lover. Any reply from your boss?" he said casually. His tone was very different from what it had been in the previous days. I felt as if he was consciously making the effort to sound less hostile about my job.

"Gee, don't know how I missed that on the Norwegian thing," I said with a wry look. So Ibsen was Norwegian, I thought to myself. There was really so much stuff I didn't know. "Well, about the glamouring issue, Manny said he would speak to me in person rather than in writing, so I guess that's a go. He must have found someone or know of someone. Maybe they already had planned it or something. Probably NSA. The CIA wouldn't be too helpful unless Chuck was asking. I don't think that Manny wants Chuck too involved at this point. Chuck is… difficult. And personnel hasn't commented on the vacation request, which means it's pretty much approved I guess. They'd say no right away if it was no. It's paid time off, so really they can't do too much about it. So anyway, I guess it's set."

Eric kept sorting through my stacks and tossed a few things out of the piles over to the philosophy bookcase.

"Yesterday evening has not put you off coming back, then?"

"No," I said softly.

"So you are happy," he said, without looking at me.

I glanced over at him. Happy about the vacation days? Happy in general? Happy this evening? I smiled because I wasn't sure which he meant.

"Yeah, I guess I'm happy. Why?" I could hear the sound of Enrique Morente through my headphones, which were on the floor. I hit pause on the iPod and turned it off.

Still, without looking at me he said softly,

"I want you to be happy." He paused and then said, "There is a way to lessen the bond. If it still is objectionable to you, I would do it if you wish it."

He sounded solemn as he said it. Something about how he said it put me slightly on edge, making me feel uneasy.

"What do you mean, lessen it. How?"

"Lessen the intensity of it. If I had Andor drain me, and then…"

I gasped and looked at him with my eyes wide. Drain? Did he say _drain? _Was he _insane_?

"What? _No_," I said, cutting him off before he could go any further. "No, absolutely _no_. Are you _nuts_? Enough with the frigging bond already, Eric. Leave it alone. I'm fine. I don't give a damn about the bond." I was incredulous. "How could you even _consider_ such a thing?"

He finally turned to me with softly glowing eyes and fangs ever so slightly run down.

"You don't like the bond. You never did. This would weaken it."

"And weaken _you_! No matter how much I disliked it I would never want you to do something like that. Geez, Eric."

"I don't want to give you any reason to…"

I looked him straight in the eyes and cut him off again, saying,

"Look, I'm _over _it, okay? It's _fine_. We are fine the way we are. And even if Andor is your most trusted friend for the past millennium, he's not getting a fang into you on my account, are we clear, Eric? Absolutely _no_."

"I would be recovered just by taking sufficient blood in return, along with perhaps some of Stefan's or Cadel's. Just not from anyone who has had my blood in the past. I trust Andor completely," he said, trying to sound reassuring about it. "He's had my blood many times, and I his."

"I don't _care._ I don't care to hear about it. It would make you weaker for having lost the blood at all. So _no_. I'm almost used to it at this point, anyway. Leave the bond the way it is. Unless you want to get rid of it or weaken it for some personal reason, like what you described before, the problem _you_ have with the bond. Then it's your business alone. But you don't you dare do anything on account of me, Eric. Especially not anything that sounds so damn crazy. Geez, I swear I don't even know why Pam doesn't want to kill me herself behind your back. Because I'm beginning to see exactly what she means," I commented under my breath, shaking my head with my eyes closed.

Then I looked him in the eyes and said,

"Promise me, Eric. _Promise me_."

He glanced away as a smile formed on his lips. As he put another few books on the shelf, his eyes literally glowed red, like warm coals. He felt pleasure at my words. Suddenly I was aware that he was probably the happiest I'd felt him since I had arrived. _A carefully calculated risk that paid off... _I seemed to feel him think. Was I _reading_ or _feeling_ his thoughts? I simply couldn't tell anymore.

"Of course, my Lover. As you wish," he said quietly.

I had a flash of feeling that _I _had given in to something significant, but allowed it to fade. He was so _very_ happy. In that same flash I also understood that he had waited until he was sure, absolutely sure… He had offered to diminish the bond only once he knew I would never agree to it. _Because he didn't want to give it up or alter it in any way._ He knew that I could feel that, too. There was not even an attempt to cover it up. He made the offer, but already knew I would never say yes. I would never have agreed to let him do something so risky. He was quite sure of that. By getting me to refuse any risk to him in diminishing it, he had gotten me, in a very skillful fashion, _to accept it_. I'd even admitted that I was almost used to it. Perhaps I was learning to like being this way, just as he had predicted long ago? Furthermore, was it wrong for him to want to keep something that let him so clearly _feel_ he was loved? What kind of person would I be to ask him to give that up, even if the way to do it had been simpler, or safer? Whatever else the bond was, or represented, I knew that Eric had told me from the moment it was made that he felt the way I felt about him and that he had liked it. Who wouldn't like feeling loved, especially if they lived in a cautious, contained and seemingly loveless society for a thousand years? Instead of trying to play mind games with myself, I realized I could feel, no matter what I had been telling myself before, that he really did love me back. It might not be fairy tale love, but it was real love. He glanced over at me sharply as I thought just that, took a book from my hand and smiled. I said nothing more.

I swayed slightly as if dizzy. Acceptance. Even as my heart felt this odd lurch, I knew that the more than three year struggle over the bond was at a quiet end. In that moment something had shifted in me. Eric had won, or gotten his way, but somehow, it didn't matter to me. Before I would have thought he was just trying to control me but now what I saw was that Eric's pleasure at his attachment to me, his desire to keep the bond, was probably the most human thing about him. I understood what Pam had tried to explain to me, that it was my fighting that side of Eric, a human side, that had made him vulnerable. Because it _hurt_ him. The shift I felt in me was also a shift in him. A greater sense of ease. He would no longer be hurt by my rejection of something that was obviously so fundamental to his enjoyment of his attachment to me. And looking back, I knew what he had said so many times was true. That attachment was there long before the bond was. For both of us.

We let the moment pass without comment and reshelved the remaining books. He shifted to my other side and put away the other various odd books. After a few quiet minutes looking at the reordered shelves, I leaned over and put my head onto his shoulder. He lowered his head and kissed my forehead. I pulled him lower and we kissed. He picked me up and effortlessly rose and carried me back to the bed.

Pam was not pleased when we came down at 8:45 pm.

"You're _late_," she said crossly, directly to me, as if it was entirely my fault. She had the bag with my sandwich in her hand and looked as if she was quite put out with having to hold human food for someone who was _late_.

I shrugged apologetically and tried to look remorseful.

"We'll have to go more than once anyway, Pam. I'd say at least three or four times, really. We need to get practice ammunition so let's skedaddle."

I had my Glocks, the 22 and 26, in my purse and showed them to her.

"He took _my_ time," she said looking petulantly at Eric's receding figure as he made his way toward his office waving to us with his back to us.

"Pam, we're wasting more time by talking about lost time," I said with a frown.

She looked at me with an arch smile, nodded curtly and off we went.

**

* * *

**

"Look at this," said Pam, presenting several sheets to Eric.

He picked one up and looked at the hole in the center of the target.

"Good shooting, Pam." He looked mildly impressed.

She frowned.

"Those are Sookie's, Eric. And it's not just one shot. See that, how it's not perfectly round? That's _five_ shots through the same small hole. It's just so unfair. She says it's because of your blood but I don't even believe her. These," she plunked down a sheet with several holes more obviously overlapping, and then another and another "are mine. _I'm _the vampire. And she's a better shot."

Then Eric just erupted into laughter and turned to look up at her.

"Pam, it was the first time." He held up her sheets to look at the holes. "I think she's had rather more practice. She's got all sorts of marksmanship medals and things like that. Really. I've seen them myself."

"This is _very_ upsetting, Eric. I shouldn't need to practice. Vampires are supposed to be perfect, are we not? We should be better than humans, practice or no, at everything. _Look _at this!" she said tapping my target sheets.

I plopped down in the chair next to the desk, and sighed, trying really hard not to laugh at Pam. She had been fuming the entire ride home. It had made for a frighteningly fast drive.

"She really enjoys it. She's a _great_ shot," I said. "Such a steady hand. Is it legal in Louisiana for vampires to have a carry permit? In Virginia it is, but in some states it isn't. And Pam, you have to remember not to shoot anyone who isn't already dead. It could really cause a lot of problems."

She sat down next to me and took my guns out of my purse as if they were already hers. She looked at them as if she admired them greatly and placed them on Eric's desk. She had finally been able to get a handle on the G22, because she liked the fact that it held more rounds. She took apart the G22 as I had shown her, and examined it with great interest, then reassembled it.

"Remember," I told her, "You have to _really _keep them clean Pam. Especially if you're going to try to use only silver. The silver is much softer, it forms oxides and if there's any debris at all in the chamber it could really be quite dangerous. You could really get injured."

"I'm going to get a gun," she said with a smile. "Carrying it's legal, I already checked. You have to get a background check and take a course for the permit. It will be very clean and loaded at all times. Don't worry."

"You know, you might want to look at the Glock 19. It's a compact version, so it's easier for someone with smaller hands. But it's still got the full magazine. I'd use a 19 if the FBI would let me. They require the 22 and let you use the 26 as backup. The Swedish Army uses the G19 as standard issue. It's a 9 mm caliber weapon. And you can get silver bullets in 9 mm just like the 0.40 and 0.45 caliber."

Pam turned to me and said with gravity,

"I'm glad you're finally treating me properly, Sookie. Keep it up and I may finally start liking you."

I turned away, shaking my head.

Shortly thereafter, I sat near Eric while he talked to his debt ridden, pyramid scheming project manager, who was switching funds accrued for building projects from one job to the next. He was very skillful. After the meeting was over, I handed Eric my stenographer's pad with names of three banks and some account information for various projects and several other people's projects that were also apparently being bilked. Stefan and Cadel were so impressed. I was always amazed anyone would have the gall to try to steal from vampires. Eric called Mr. Cataliades, who said he could call the District Attorney's office and ask them to investigate it with the NOPD. I told Eric that if the DA's office didn't proceed with the police findings that I could always mention it to Sara Weiss, since the FBI did, after all, handle racketeering investigations. At least one of the projects the guy was involved in was in Tunica, which meant he was crossing state lines and the case, if there was one, could be federal. Eric seemed so pleased. It was such a simple thing to do to help him, I thought. I remembered when I first did telepathic work for him long ago. This was all so simple, I thought, in contrast to what I did now, every day that I screened people for the FBI. That work was so intense and I felt the need to be so cautious in everything I said and did. Literally, it could mean the difference between freedom and living in prison for many years. Or making a mistake that could cost innocent people their lives. I looked back on the days when I had worked for Eric or for Sophie-Anne and felt that they were simple times.

Since Eric was done for the night and it was still so early, we watched a movie on the big TV in the sitting area, _Underworld: Rise of the Lycans_, with Stefan, Pam and Rasul. It was pretty funny to watch a movie about vampires and werewolves with a bunch of vampires, I had to say. I was glad to be snuggled up to my vampire. Andor, Cadel and two other vampires I didn't know came in for the last hour. I guess it felt kind of odd to be the only human in the room with eight vampires. After years of thinking vampires were exotic or the minority, here in this compound, I was. I remembered Eric watching _Buffy_ in my house long ago and how amused he was by it. Glancing around, I felt as if my present reality was surreal. I tried to envision living here among vampires. The idea seemed quite odd.

Lying in bed, later that night, I finally said something to Eric about the business with the bond. He was lying on his side next to me. I looked up and blew at his loose hair.

"So what would you have done if you'd been wrong and I said it was fine to go ahead with your crazy plan, Eric?"

"Do you want to hear me say that I knew you would refuse? I _knew_ you would refuse. There you go. Come closer, Agent Gordon. Much closer," he said, draping a leg over mine, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him. "But you can't say I didn't offer, now, can you?"

"Well, it seems like a helluva risk to have taken, Eric. It would have been awkward if I'd said, yeah, sure, fine, go right ahead."

"I _know_ you. You're just going to have to make all these risks worth my while, Lover." His faintly glowing face leered at me with a mischievous grin in the dark.

"Really." I was pretty tired so I hoped he was not serious, especially considering earlier in the evening.

His face seemed to float above me in the darkness. I sighed heavily. I contemplated the possibility that it really was possible to have too much of a good thing.

"Tell me you're mine," he said.

Okay, I was totally caught off guard. Definitely not where I thought he was headed. I paused for a moment before replying.

"If I say it, do I still get to have my own life, my own choices, and all my rights and opinions."

"Of course, Lover."

I hesitated.

"That's still really a hard one for me, Eric."

"You told me once that you were Bill's."

"Yes, and look how well that turned out. A smashing success. I'm a different person now. Besides, when I said it, it wasn't with the same intent. It was just Bill trying to keep you away from me. Somehow, I get the feeling that my saying it now has a different meaning."

"It does. Because you _are _mine."

"Why do I keep getting the feeling that there is more to this whole thing of being bound to you than I understand, Eric?"

"We are bound to _each other_. The bond has worked both ways. It has worked in ways I could not have envisioned."

I felt his eyes on my face in the dark, as if he could scan me like a microscope, looking for the smallest thing. I thought of the past three and a half years and my realization from the previous night that I hadn't even felt alive emotionally. I felt as if I was on the edge of grasping something that I was almost afraid to take hold of.

"So it's important to you. My acknowledging that I'm yours?"

He just stared down at me, silently.

"You realize I'm still going back to Virginia at the end of the month, right Eric?"

He went on staring down at me, waiting.

"Okay. I'm yours in the sense that you have my heart. I'm keeping my mind for myself."

"Could I just have the short version?"

I groaned internally.

"Fine, Eric. Fine. I'm yours." I sighed, just tired of resisting. "I rea…"

His lips were on mine. After a minute he sank back into the pillows with a sigh and pulled me closer still, and rested his chin near my ear. If it was possible to _feel_ someone smile, I felt him smiling.

"Och jag är din," he said softly near my ear.

"Oh, really?" I said wearily. "You're really obnoxious, Eric. Who goes on _deliberately_ saying something to their lover in a language the person doesn't understand? It's really totally obnoxious."

"Ja, mitt hjärta, verkligen?" he said with a teasing chuckle.

"Aren't you the one who wants to talk about every damn thing?" I murmured. "Well, exactly what is the point of saying stuff in a language I don't understand? And before you did it when you were mad. What's the deal this time?"

"If that's the most grief I give you for everything I have put up with, you're a lucky woman, Lover. You could always learn some Swedish, you know." He laughed softly, kissed my temple and whispered, "Sleep, my Lover. Sov, min älskade."

That last one I wasn't going to argue about.


	13. Chapter 12

**XII.**

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

- Robert Frost, _The Road Not Taken_, 1920

* * *

The first week in Louisiana had passed and the second seemed to go even more swiftly. I went out during the day in the second week. Eric seemed to want to really counter Pam's jibes that I was like a virtual captive in his grasp. He seemed very determined to make me feel that I had a sense of freedom. At his insistence, I went out to spent time with Amelia and Bertram (who was part fae but not part fairy, something I'd yet to quite absorb), and on another occasion went to Octavia and Louis's home, with Amelia and Bertram, for the afternoon and then dinner. The day security staff at the compound was at least inspiring a bit more confidence in me. They were pretty careful and some of them were kind of frightening. I met Diantha's father, for instance. I felt safer going in and out of the compound knowing that the security was tight. Bennett Tucker's Weres would escort me around and stay nearby while I visited. Sara Weiss was not thrilled with my contact with people from my former life but I was sure that my identity was safe with vampires, witches and sorcerers. And really, who was left of the people I'd be afraid to find me? Felipe, Victor and Dermot were dead and gone. Actually, I was most concerned about the gravity of trust that Eric placed in me. I was the only person with the codes to enter his rooms other than Pam. Eric said that because he'd sired Pam and was bound to me that if something happened to us to try to get us to force us to gain entry into his quarters he'd likely know it. But to me, there was the huge difference in that I was out during the day. I knew firsthand how hard it was to rouse him during the day. He said firmly that he didn't think there would ever be reason to be concerned.

We went to hear more jazz, went out with friends on a riverboat, and the days just seemed to roll by. On the 26th I met with Mr. Cataliades and signed a will and a trust for Hunter, with Eric as executor of the trust. I'd paid off the mortgage that Jason had taken out on our parents' home. I'd set aside money for capital improvements to the Stackhouse home and for Jason's as well, in addition to a nest egg for Jason. Bill was going to help me make arrangements to have repair work, fresh painting and other renovation work done on my home. Then I bought out Sam's business loan though he refused it as a gift. I'd offered him a much lower rate or just owning a share of Merlotte's. He surprised me, deciding after he told me he had finally forgiven me for taking off without a word, that he wanted me to be a part owner in Merlotte's. It was less than a fifth share, but it left him pretty much debt free other than his revolving expenses. He was just thrilled and said he hoped I'd visit regularly to check on my investment. The afternoon I spoke to him, he told me that he had seen Jason at lunch and that Jason was happier than he had been in years. He attributed it to the fact that, after apologizing profusely to him for my having taken off the way I did, I'd told Jason that I'd be in New Orleans again July 17th through the 26th and that I wanted to have him visit on that first weekend, my treat for the hotel. They were going to share the room, while Bill stayed in the compound with us. I'd promised Jason I'd try to stay in touch more.

Meanwhile, Mr. Cataliades was aghast at a six figure stock donation to Amnesty International that I made as an anonymous donor. I could tell once he found out that I was really serious about giving away a good fraction of the inheritance to charitable organizations that he was ready to rip up any potential prenuptial agreement and tell Eric he ought to do something to better control me. Mr. C. clearly did not believe in giving money away, or think my grandfather would have either. However, it made no matter to me. I firmly told Mr. C. that I had plans for that money and that it was going to be put to good use. My great grandfather had left it to me and I'd do what I thought was best with it. I told Mr. C and Eric that I was going to talk to Ahmed, who did a lot of charitable giving in Afghanistan and Pakistan, before contributing there. In the end, as he was leaving, he remarked that I was a very odd human. I reminded him that I was an eighth fairy and that fairies could be mighty unpredictable. He smiled down at me and shook his head. I was pretty sure he thought I was crazy and fiscally irresponsible.

Eric was not certainly not happy that I was leaving at dawn on the morning of the 27th to drive up to Red Ditch to see Hunter and Remy. He'd originally thought I was going back to Virginia on the 27th, but I'd explained about my plans to visit Hunter a few days after I'd been staying with him. He didn't seem thrilled with the idea of sharing my available vacation time with someone who lived five hours away but kept it to himself since he know I was visiting Hadley's son. Maybe part of his unhappiness about my trip was also that, two days before I left for Red Ditch, he'd asked me again about getting married and I told him, more nicely this time, that I couldn't envision doing that right now. I frankly couldn't even believe that he was asking again. That he'd been _serious_. He didn't exactly seem surprised I said no, but he seemed firm when he told me that we really _were_ going to get legally married, no matter what I thought about the improbability of the idea and even if I wasn't ready to move back to Louisiana. I just held his hand, rested my head on his shoulder and didn't reply further. Frankly, after the whole thing with the bond, I really wasn't counting Eric out on the idea. Eric was almost frighteningly skillful at getting his way. But he wasn't going to get any more from me unless I was ready and willing. It was enough already just to be adjusting to the past seven weeks and be dealing with my job situation.

Eric asked Jamie, the Were who worked with Bennett Tucker at NOLA PD, to travel with me to Red Ditch. Jamie actually drove, since daytime travel was a pretty much a complete reversal of my waking schedule after two weeks with Eric. I'd stayed an extra half-day in New Orleans in order to be able to wake next to Eric that Friday night, and stay with him until dawn on Saturday morning. I was going to be back by the afternoon of the 29th, spend the night in the compound and then fly back to Virginia on the morning of the 30th. The drive to Red Ditch took about 5 hours from New Orleans. Jamie told me to just sleep, and I took him up on the offer. He seemed quite earnest in his determination to keep me safe after speaking privately with Eric about my trip. I didn't even want to imagine what Eric told him…

Remy Savoy had not been too friendly when I had called him the week before. I guess he thought I was every bit as flaky as Hadley had been. But he said that Hunter was waiting to see me and seemed to convey a sense to me that Hunter had in fact, even been expecting me. I thought it was a little odd, but just made my plans and showed up on Saturday afternoon. As the car was put into 'park' Hunter whipped open the front door and stood in the doorway beaming.

Hunter was now eight and a half years old. He looked mostly like a regular eight year old boy, unless you looked at him closely. His eyes looked guarded and old. I recalled the same guarded, 'seen too much' expression, from my own life at the same age, in the year that followed my parents' deaths. He was definitely Hadley's child, with his dark hair and dark eyes. He was really such a handsome child. That touch of fairy blood was evident in his graceful and attractive appearance. He looked with curiosity at Jamie and I could see that he could tell right away that he was a Were. He quickly hugged me and then took my hand, giving a long glance back at Remy who nodded hello. Hunter pulled me around to the back yard and sat in a swing. I pushed him, while he dangled his legs and seemed to enjoy the rush of air and the sunlight on his face.

_So, Aunt Sookie. I can call you Aunt Sookie, right? You're like an Aunt, really._

_Sure, you can._

_So things are almost all better now, right? You're almost better from when they hurt you?_

I froze. I had thought of Hunter that night, but had tried to rein it in and _not_ think about him. He was only four going on five then.

_They who, Hunter?_

_The mean fairy people. The bad ones that hurt you. The ones our grandfather killed with your friend? You're much better now, right?_

I stopped pushing him and walked around in front of him.

_Hunter, how do you know about this?_

_I… see things. I saw it. Not when it happened, but when Daddy couldn't talk to you he called your brother. That's when we found out you went away. I tried to see what happened to make you leave. Daddy said you ran away. But you just had to go away to get well again. They did very bad things to you. But now you're better. I can tell you are._

I crossed my arms across my chest and tried not to be too alarmed as I took a deep breath.

_You saw what happened? You saw I had to leave?_

_I hear things, like now. And I see things, too. I saw what they did to you. They hurt you with knives and with their shiny teeth. I'm glad they are dead. They were very bad. I had nightmares about it sometimes, but not so much anymore._

I swallowed hard and tried to stay calm as I absorbed this information. He had _nightmares_ about it but not anymore? I was really hoping I was misunderstanding him somehow.

_What do you see? You see past things? Things going on now?_

He stopped himself by dragging his feet on the ground beneath him and looked at me.

_I see all kinds of things. Past things. Things now, like you and Eric. Future things. Sometimes I don't like the things I see. Like when you got so hurt. But at least I knew you were okay now. But you have to be careful. You have to be really careful so that you come back okay from your work._ _Your work is getting dangerous now._

He looked very serious as he said this last part to me.

I swallowed hard. He knew about Eric? He knew about the fairies? He was telling me to be careful at work…

_But I think it will be okay. Because I can see things from when you come back._

_When I come back from where?_

_When you move back home. Things will be okay when you move back home._

He smiled.

Finally I was just on overload. I started talking the regular way.

"Hunter, are you saying that you can see things from the future? Are you sure? Not just wishful thinking things, or hopes, or plans. But things that then really happen? Not things _you_ can make happen, but things that have nothing to do with you, that you see and then have happened?"

_Like car accidents or people getting hurt on the monkey bars at school the week before it happens? Or me coming to live with you? Yeah. I see those kinds of things. _

I tried to guard my thoughts while I thought about the last part, thinking that he must be so lonely. He didn't even have a sibling, like I'd had Jason. It had to be wishful thinking on his part that he would come to live with me.

_No. I really do. It doesn't happen for a while. Until I'm almost thirteen. That's when we all decide it's for the best. Daddy doesn't like my seeing things. It will be for the best. You understand me better._

I tried to be careful, as I asked,

_What's for the best?_

_Living with you in New Orleans. I saw it last year at Christmas. I saw it when I was looking at the ornament you sent me when I was little. I live with you in the big building and I go to a private school. Newman something. By then my seeing things will really be something Daddy doesn't like, but it will be really useful for us, Aunt Sookie._

I shook my head, worried.

_No, Hunter. A child is not 'useful'. It is not your place to be 'useful'. You're a child, and still will be a child, even when you're bigger and thirteen. You're not supposed be 'useful' other than doing chores around the house and getting good grades._

He smiled and said out loud,

"I like you, Aunt Sookie. I'll be really safe with you."

He got off the swing and, almost shyly, moved toward me and put his arms around my waist and rested his head against my chest. I tried to be very careful with my thoughts because he was so alone. I didn't want to do anything to make him feel that more keenly.

_How many people know about this, Hunter?_

_Only you and Daddy. Daddy says I am not supposed to tell anyone at all, but I told him you would know because you are almost like me._

_Almost like you because I can hear thoughts, you mean?_

_Yes, but you don't see things. Seeing things is bad sometimes. I see things I don't like. Like what happened to you. Or accidents. Or bad things I don't understand. Sometimes I see good things, though. Like living with you. But don't worry about it now. You will keep me safe. You can go ahead and pretend it isn't real for a while. That's what I do. I pretend. But it will all work out. I know it will. I saw it._

He paused for a second and said,

_You want a popsicle? It's really hot outside. I've got grape and it will turn your tongue purple._

We went inside and got popsicles and then sat out on the deck in back in case they dripped. Jamie was off in the shade in a lounge chair listening to an mp3 player and looking at some auto magazines. He'd glance up to keep an eye on me every once in a while.

Hunter's feet didn't even reach the ground from the chair and the plastic chair made a squeaking sound as he swung his legs back and forth. He slurped on his popsicle.

Remy sat next to him and looked at me with a cold stare.

"Who's the guy?" Remy asked me.

"A friend," I said simply.

"He's supposed to watch her for her boyfriend," said Hunter, glancing over at Jamie with narrow eyes. _Daddy won't understand about Eric. Daddy thinks vampires are bad because of my mom. Don't tell him too much. Don't tell him you are going to marry a vampire yet. Even though really, I guess you're already married, right? I don't understand that part. I mean are you __really __married? It's kind of confusing, Aunt Sookie._

Well, that made two of us being confused, and I wasn't just confused about how to describe my relationship to Eric to people. I paused trying to regroup. I hadn't known that many children, but I was very sure that Hunter was not like any eight year old that _I'd_ ever known, not even like me at that age. The complexity of what he perceived and understood seemed almost astonishing. Was he seeing future things and the overlay of my own confusion about where things were with Eric now? Did he really see me marrying Eric?

_Okay. I understand. _ I didn't really think I did, but...

"So?" Remy asked.

_I like Eric. I think he's very nice to you. He teases you. He's nice. For a vampire._

_Hunter, would you keep your nose out of my business, thank you._

Hunter giggled out loud. His lips and tongue were now totally purple. He grinned at me.

"So?" Remy asked again.

"What," I shrugged.

"What do you think?"

I hesitated.

"I think you need to be careful."

"Hell, yes, we need to be careful. I'd home school him if I didn't have to work."

"No, that would be a bad idea, Remy. If he wasn't with other people all day, when he did go out, it would be incapacitating. He needs to stay with people around him. He really needs to. He needs to learn how to show good judgment and when to filter people's thoughts out of his mind. I'll talk to him about it."

"What about the other stuff?"

_Daddy doesn't like it. He thinks it's freaky. That's what he says in his mind.  
_

I shuddered. I remembered my parents thinking things like that. I shifted my gaze again over toward Jamie. He was moving slightly to the beat of music. He glanced up and nodded at me. I figured he probably couldn't hear anything we were saying at a distance, what with the music, even though Weres had superacute hearing. I scanned him. His mind was absorbed with engine performance. That was all I could read from him.

"What do you think about the other stuff?" I asked Remy. I was curious to see what his impression was. I didn't want to annoy Hunter by thinking of him as just a fanciful child, but I wondered if from Remy's perspective if what Hunter said he saw from the future came true. It occurred to me that it was just possible that Hunter could be reading what happened to me directly _from_ me, I told myself. And the same about Eric and my job. But Remy put an end to that little idea.

"I think it's some seriously scary shit, if you'll excuse my language. Whenever he gets like that I'm almost afraid to listen. And it happens just as he says it will. Is your brother like this, too? Like you? Like Hunter? I didn't know, so I didn't want to ask him any questions."

"No, Jason is not. You were right to say nothing. I think you need to be really careful, Remy. I think if you aren't, that things could go badly."

I tried to really rein in my thoughts on the subject, but it made no difference. Hunter was like a little roto-rooter.

_I know some people would think I could be really useful. They could steal me. But bad people won't get me if I'm with you. Maybe Eric will help you protect me. He protected you. Actually, I'm sure he will protect me too, for you. Plus, he'll think I'm useful. But, not in a bad way. _

Not in a bad way? What _good _way could there be, where a child was concerned? Currently, Aunt Sookie was feeling pretty damn shaky on the whole deal. I tried not to think of all the people that had been looking at me like an asset for the past five years and place that same mindset in the vicinity of an eight year old child. I tried even to push Eric to the very back of my mind so Hunter couldn't latch on to those thoughts, either. Because I seriously wondered if even Eric would be unable to resist the temptation of an eight year old psychic child being a very 'useful' asset.

In the late afternoon, I played Monopoly with Hunter, Remy and Jamie. We made spaghetti with meat sauce and garlic bread for dinner. I played some more with Hunter and then he went to bed. Hunter had become very skilled at covering his telepathy because Jamie hadn't noticed a thing during the afternoon and evening. Since Jamie had clearly been instructed not to leave me alone at all, it made it a little awkward for Remy and me to talk that night. Jamie went back to his mp3 player and magazines and I could hear the heavy metal sound leaking from his headphones. Remy and I sat in the kitchen and chatted over tea for a while, but it was really more of the same. He really thought that Stackhouse genes were disastrous. They made you hear things you shouldn't, sometimes see things you shouldn't, and evidently they increased your chances of taking off in a totally irresponsible fashion like Hadley and I did.

I slept in the top bunk bed above Hunter and Jamie slept on the living room couch. After so many days in New Orleans it felt odd to go to sleep when it was still so early, and odder still not to be next to Eric while I slept.

On Sunday morning we made cinnamon apple pancakes for breakfast. Hunter and I went for a walk while Jamie trailed behind. I talked to Hunter about school and about friends and the lack of them. Our experiences were fairly similar. He was a lonely child, though, without even a sibling to play with. Plus, I'd had Tara, who didn't care if I was weird because she was dealing with all her own life stuff and didn't have to explain a thing of it to me. He liked to read and was starting to read Harry Potter. He had seen the movies and thought it was funny that the Harry Potter story had a werewolf, but no vampires so far. He hated having to look up words he didn't know and there were a lot of those words in Harry Potter. I told him I could get him the books on CD so he could listen and maybe catch the meaning of the new words by their context and he seemed happy with that idea.

Then came the hard part. Walking along the old railroad tracks near Remy's home, I held his hand while he balanced on the rail. I told him I didn't think I should come to see him too often because I didn't want to attract attention to him. I wasn't sure an eight year old could really understand that, or understand why. Since Remy didn't have a computer, I had decided one of the first things I was going to do was get them one, and make sure that we could Skype if we changed email addresses frequently, since I didn't want Hunter calling me on my work cell phone and discussing stuff with me. I figured that Hunter and I could stay in touch once in a while that way. To my surprise he seemed to pretty much understand it.

_You know I'm not being mean, right?_

_It's only for a while, Aunt Sookie. You'll be back pretty soon. _

I decided I really didn't want to ask what he saw…

_How about another a popsicle? _ I asked him.

Since Hunter had school the next day, I decided it was better for him to settle back into his routine after my visit. Jamie and I drove back to New Orleans after dinner. Eric was really pleased that I came back earlier than I'd planned. But he easily picked up on the fact that there was something preoccupying me. Between worrying about Hunter and feeling so oddly conflicted about going back to Virginia and what might await me there, I was pretty distant and brooding. He somehow managed not to badger me on any of it. He was busy with his work but it seemed like he understood my melancholy. I knew he had his own.

On Monday night, after I was all packed to leave the following morning, I sat on the couch in Eric's office reading. I didn't know whether it was Hunter's words to me, or some sense of my own but I felt like I was moving toward a fork in the road. As I looked at Eric's head bent over a pile of documents on his desk, I knew which way I was going. Regardless of when I got there, and irrespective of all my worst internal fears. I couldn't envision _not_ having Eric in my life anymore. He'd managed to work some sort of magic on me and I didn't think it had anything to do with any bond. It had more to do with love and trust. Even though I hadn't asked Hunter when, and I knew it would be a while, part of me knew I was coming back to New Orleans for more than just weeklong visits. I was comforted by the idea that things would just work out. In the meantime, I felt like I still had work to do. Within myself, in part, but also with my actual job.

After an emotionally difficult departure from New Orleans at dawn on Tuesday, I was picked up by the 'Royal Transportation Service', as Ahmed's goofy sign said, at Reagan National, and was home with my Rosie Cat by 4:30 pm, in an apartment filled with four dozen red roses and birthday wishes from Eric and Pam for my thirtieth birthday, which was the following day, July 1. Ben left a note saying that he hoped I'd be more accepting about this little intrusion compared to the last ones, since I'd really told him off after Eric had left Virginia back in May. He was supposed to take care of Rosie and that was _it_, I'd told him in May. Meanwhile, as we drove back to Alexandria from the airport, I told Ahmed about Eric and my vacation. He helped me carry my things upstairs and sat listening to it all in complete silence. I didn't get into all of the details of how I had ended up in the FBI but he got the gist of it. He was simply incredulous. He asked me to see a photo of Eric and I showed him the only one I had currently, which was in my phone. I thought to myself with a chuckle that it was really a shame that his Mr. January outtake was somewhere back in my bedroom in Bon Temps, because Ahmed probably would have enjoyed it. He didn't comment much about any of it and when he left I had the impression I'd really given him a shock.

I was out dancing with Sammy by 8:30 pm and back at work in the morning by 8 am. I still seemed to have a job. The copy of _Teach Yourself Swedish_ waiting on my desk was not annotated, but was an inspired birthday gift, as I told Ahmed. It was also a sign of support. We went out for lunch and in the middle of talking about possible upcoming work, he asked me if being bitten hurt. Talk about non-sequitors. That night I was _not_ glamoured by two NSA vampires who told Chuck Powell that I was the famous Louisiana telepath who had talked back to a really ancient vampire at the Rhodes summit several years back and that lots of vampires knew of me and that oh yeah, by the way, I couldn't be glamoured. The NSA vampires were disguised so that I couldn't tell anyone who they really were. Manny was thrilled. Chuck Powell looked almost as if he was disappointed. He was not happy about my stint in Louisiana at all. He didn't like me and now thought I'd lied about my past and fleeced them to get away from a bad marriage or something. Chuck was not the same kind of guy that Manny was in my mind. Not at all. As I sat there at the table with him, I was more certain than ever that there were still enhanced interrogation techniques that were covertly in use. But he conceded to Manny that his predictions were not borne out. There appeared to be no direct risk of information leakage from my being emotionally involved with a vampire. I told Manny that I seriously hoped that they would leave Eric alone and further told him that I would quit if they didn't. Manny tried to reassure me on the topic of anyone going after Eric and told me that Chuck knew he'd be playing with fire on that one.

Work was brisk in July. Ahmed and I went to Iraq for two days after my birthday. The second week of July we interviewed a suspected Al Qaeda terrorist in Turkey who had been making calls to several people back in the US. Then we headed to Madrid and spent two days interviewing a couple of suspects for the Spanish government. After working, we had a great time in Madrid at night, although it was unbearably hot even at night. Around the middle of the month, Alla came in Quantico several times to look at transcripts and listen to some wiretap recordings that were in Farsi. I visited Alla and Mercan at home, with their darling Alexander. Ahmed and I went sailing without them since they were worried about taking the baby out too soon. I danced, and went to book club and adhered to all my usual routines when I was home. But just as I had predicted, I felt like I was living in a world that was in black and white and shades of gray. The rich colors of New Orleans and that other part of my life were just unmatched. Eric and I still skyped daily, many times twice a day, even when I was in Europe. I missed him terribly and often found myself brooding. I was glad when the third week of July arrived. We had a genuinely happy and relaxed visit this time. Eric joked that all the heavy lifting had been done in June. I had a happy visit with Jason and with Sam. Bill was on hand, too. I went out of the compound several afternoons to see Amelia, Bertram, Octavia and Louis. Going out made me realize how much I craved the daytime when I was with Eric, though. I wondered what it would be like for a human to really_ live_ in the compound on the third floor, which was so dark. Meanwhile, Eric wasn't very happy when, in spite of the fact that I would admit I missed him terribly when I was in Virginia, he asked again and I still said no. I told him I thought the idea of getting married when I lived in another state was just plain foolish. He was oversensitive about my continuing to refer to Virginia as 'home' when conversing with others.

In August I went to Pakistan and Afghanistan on longer trips. We were interviewing many captured Taliban fighters these days. The nine and a half to eleven hour time differences made skyping Eric a challenge. Eric was edgy the entire time I was gone because some days I had no internet access at all. He was not alone with the edginess. I had a temporary interpreter for Pashto but on one occasion he made a mistake translating something and there was a huge mess because I was absolutely sure he was wrong about what he told me. I had to end up using a local interpreter, which was always more dangerous for everyone involved, and told Manny that if they didn't find me someone I could work with in Pashto and Dari that I simply would refuse to work there. Making a mistake could be worse than not doing the work at all. Meanwhile, Pakistan was becoming more and more dangerous. The Taliban were getting more and more ensconced in Pakistan by the week. There was plenty of evidence that they really were still involved with Al Qaeda and there were no margins for error because of the instability in the government and what the Pakistani government had in its arsenal. I had to say that Pakistan was becoming a frightening place. And my standard of frightening was pretty different from the average person's view.

I was glad for the break of being in New Orleans again for the third week of August. I had fun dancing with Sean while Layla danced with Rasul one night. Eric did _not_ enjoy watching me dancing with Sean, however. Eric and I spent time dancing in the library but always ended up doing more than just dancing, which, I reflected, was probably why it was so hard for Eric to deal with my dancing with anyone else. I tried to soak up as much enjoyment as possible from my weeklong stay, dreading going back to Virginia because I knew more Pakistan awaited me. When Eric asked again, for the third time, close to dawn the day before I was leaving to go back to Virginia, I sighed and said I'd 'think about it' and just buried my head in his chest. I really missed him when I was away. I just didn't know that I believed things could work out in the long term, however. He seemed happy it wasn't a flat out 'no' anymore. We fell asleep happy. But later that evening we quarreled about when I was coming in September. It was perfectly obvious to both of us that the real quarrel was about what came after September, when I'd have no more PTO days. I had already told Manny that I wanted to take extra time in October and November unpaid, but it was pending approval. Words like 'pending' didn't go over well with Eric.

September, meanwhile, brought all kinds of problems. I had to change my travel dates, which upset Eric, in large part because I think he could sense that I was increasingly edgy about working in Pakistan. It was the bulk of my work currently and I still wasn't saying no to working there, even though I _was_ edgy about it. The work was too important in my eyes. Eric would look at me in stony silence sometimes and I'd feel the chill all the way through the internet connection when I'd simply say I couldn't discuss things with him. He could know where I was going but not much else. By early September I'd actually started thinking about whether I should just tell the Bureau I didn't want to go on working in Central Asia. Our visits were longer and our fallback position of the US Embassy was less than comforting. Ahmed had been unsettled from the start by the fact that neighboring structures were too close to the embassy building and that security, given what all appeared to be going on around us, looked marginal. Ahmed joked that if the embassy was the fallback, then we were off a cliff. By mid-September though, things were bad enough so that Alla had come back to work early, since Ahmed told her how badly things were going without her. The scare with the Pasto interpreter had been repeated yet again, this time with reports of materials for a dirty bomb having been obtained by Al Qaeda operatives but an inability to locate the cell or verify the information. Thankfully, as my gut instinct and ability to read the Taliban guy's visuals suggested, in the end, it was a resource wasting lie. Meanwhile, everyone we spoke to in the US or Pakistani military assured us that things were still stable. The problem was they were telling that to a telepath. I had started telling Ahmed back in August, after my last visit to New Orleans, that I was thinking about quitting. By mid-September, the three of us talked quietly among ourselves about how much longer we would stay. Because of the seriousness of the situation, we thought we could stick it out a while longer. We were still getting useful information about a mounting risk to the Pakistani government that could impact US interests in the entire region and maybe even back home in the US. Even if loved ones and family hated it, maybe we could stick it out until closer to the end of the year, was our thinking. But that was the longest I was willing to stay. I had come to the conclusion that my life seemed to gravitate toward danger no matter what I did. If I was going to be in danger, I would rather be in danger with Eric, at home, than in some far flung corner of the world. While I hadn't told anyone else, I told Ahmed and Alla that I was planning to quit in the late fall. I wanted to be home by mid-December, for the holidays.

Sometimes though, as Alla would say, fate seems to have a different plan.


	14. Chapter 13

**XIII.**

**Late September 2009**

_I love you._

I pressed send, waited a few seconds to see it go and then tossed the phone away, out onto the tarmac at Risalpur PAFB. I could now legitimately say to Manny that I had misplaced my phone.

First Lieutenant Luke Birch of the 82nd Airborne Division, US Army, looked down at me, the extra gear in his hands. He shouted over the sound of the chopper blades,

"Are you absolutely _sure_, ma'am?"

I studied him. He'd just lost seven men an hour ago and he didn't want to be the one that allowed the FBI's prize interrogator to get killed. On the other hand, I'd be about the only chance of getting those people out of that building. And I was an extra pair of trained hands, since I'd demanded additional weapons and he knew I definitely had experience according to what he'd heard from the embassy staff. He'd seen me with my Glock at my back and I'd been in his face for more than twenty minutes insisting I would go back. I'd said the wound was only a flesh wound and batted away the medic after it had been cleaned up and bandaged. Well, if I was willing then he'd take me up on it. Because frankly, there was no point in going back if they didn't even know where they were looking.

I grabbed the submachine gun out of his hands and pocketed extra cartridges, pointed toward the chopper and we trotted forward and got in. The guy on the comm shouted over the rotor noise,

"We've got twenty minutes!"

We were at least eight minutes out from the embassy compound. I shuddered. Really, it was so little time…

**

* * *

**

[playlist suggestion: _Jigsaw Falling into Place_, Radiohead, followed by _Timeworm_, Kula Shaker]

Pam burst into the audience room.

"Eric, where is Sookie?" Eric looked up at her, startled. "Where is she? Tell me she isn't still in Islamabad?" She sounded so upset and looked almost wild-eyed.

He froze.

"Why?"

She beckoned and he rose, indicating to the guests that they should stay put with Markus. He, Andor and Stefan went into the sitting room where Rasul stood, looking at the TV, which was tuned to CNN. It was a gray morning in Islamabad. Smoke filled the air. At a distance there was a building in flames, its exterior pocked with what appeared to be extensive damage. He looked at the crawling captions in disbelief:

… _reportedly, a US counterterrorism team and some US Embassy personnel are still trapped… evacuation helicopter lost to anti-aircraft fire… Situation in Islamabad devolved over the past eight hours with Taliban forces overrunning the local Punjabi Army forces spread thin because of simultaneous assassination attempts on President __Asif Ali Zardari__ and General __Ashfaq Parvez Kayani__... Midnight attack on compound caught Embassy personnel off-guard in spite of heightened threat status…_

They broke away from the scene at the Embassy to show a downed helicopter, still in flames, in what appeared to be a nearby residential area.

With a sense of dread he took out his phone intending to scroll through his messages and stiffened. A new message. He opened it.

_I love you. _

_Sent 8:52 pm CDT_

Ten minutes ago? He stood there just staring at the phone. Thursday. She was coming on Thursday for a week. He looked up at the TV, at the US Embassy in Islamabad partially engulfed in flames, windows shot out. Portions of the exterior edifice were blasted away.

'_Embassies don't make you safe. They're actually a great target….' _she had said with a cool tone that night in June, he remembered.

Pam asked again, "Was she still in Islamabad? You said she had been staying in the Embassy, right?"

He silently nodded to them, staring back at the TV in utter disbelief.

"Maybe I can get more info if we try Al Jazeera," Rasul said to Pam. "Sometimes they won't show as much on a American news outlets because they don't want to scare people or get them riled up here in the States. I can translate."

Pam nodded. Stefan and Andor seemed rooted in place, glancing at one another with concern. But no one dared look at Eric at all.

Rasul flipped through the channels on the satellite finally arriving at one that had grainier video footage, but from a much closer vantage point. What it showed was even more frightening. The US Embassy compound was in flames, with spent artillery all over the garden areas and dead bodies strewn across the entry areas of the compound. The gates to the Embassy had been driven through by a massive truck that was now on fire in the front drive area. Half of the building was totally engulfed in flames. Scrolling Arabic captions appeared across the bottom of the screen. The narration was in rapid Arabic. The cameraman appeared to be on some structure close enough to allow a zoom lens to be used to capture much closer video footage than CNN. Then coverage cut away to footage of the Presidential Palace in the distance, with tanks rolling through the wide boulevard.

"Part of an FBI team is out they say. They saw someone in FBI gear get out on the first round of evacuations with the Ambassador. Maybe she's okay. They say that the helicopter that was shot down had no civilians. The Taliban have held the Embassy for more than an hour. Hold on… they say they see more incoming helicopters…"

The image on the screen shifted to five helicopters, Black Hawks, approaching and firing at the US Embassy building and a neighboring high-rise structure outside the compound walls. One helicopter landed on the pad on top of the Embassy building and a crew of nine heavily armed men got out. Then a smaller figure got out as well. Obviously a woman. As she turned her bulletproof vest could easily be seen even at the distance from the roof to be emblazoned 'FBI'.

"Tell me I'm not seeing this?" Pam said in alarm. "She got out and she went _back? _Is she _insane?_"

"You said part of the team was left behind?" Eric asked soberly.

Rasul nodded. They all turned to Eric.

"They're her team. I think there are two to three others that usually go. At least two are good friends, her interpreters. She wouldn't leave them if they were still there. One of them is Iranian and a woman. The other is a Saudi guy. I think he's gay on top of it. She would never leave them... considering what the Taliban might do to them, just even for collaborating with the US." He looked away, shaking his head.

The group spread out across the roof of the Embassy. She was lost for a time behind something obstructing the view, but then emerged pointing to a region of the building below her. It looked like she was signaling numbers and delineating locations. Suddenly she dodged back, yanking the nearest soldier back by his vest and started shooting with a handgun, appearing to hit two men with rifles coming out of a stairwell onto the roof directly in their heads.

"Whoa…" said Rasul. The shock of Sookie actually shooting people rocked the room. Pam gasped.

More men started coming out of the stairwell. She and a soldier at her side started shooting with what appeared to be submachine guns, while the eight others set up and rappelled down off the roof and in through the windows two floors below. The team still on the roof, including someone firing from the helicopter, started to take fire from some neighboring area and they started to shift position on the roof to gain more cover. Pam gasped again and walked to the screen and pointed at the small frame that was obviously Sookie. She wore light colored slacks that appeared to have a dark stain trailing down the back. It was hard to see clearly because of the distance and the graininess of the video. The firefight on the roof continued. One of the helicopters hovering nearby suddenly exploded into a fireball and two of the others hovering around shifted position and began to fire intensely at a neighboring building, collapsing an entire wall. Suddenly weapons fire seemed to erupt from within the stairwell leading to the roof and she and the other soldier near her fell back, closer to the waiting helicopter. They could see that she and the soldier nearest her appeared to be glancing at something as if agitated. It looked like the soldier next to her was shouting something. Four soldiers with what looked like civilians at their sides appeared began to emerge from the stairwell at a fast clip, and a second helicopter landed on the roof precariously. Civilians were literally jumping into the second helicopter, urged on by the soldiers. It departed and was replaced by another helicopter. The man at her side pointed back at their helicopter as if urging her to get in, but the she didn't budge and kept firing at a neighboring rooftop. Finally, a two more soldiers came out, one with a woman slung over his shoulder advancing toward the first helicopter. He was followed by a tall, slender man in blood spattered civilian clothes, to whom Sookie tossed another machine gun. He ducked down near her, firing as well, to give the others additional cover. Seven additional people came running out of the stairwell with the last two soldiers but then more of the rebel fighters appeared to be working their way up the stairs as well. On the roof, the teams held off the fighters' advance while the last civilians were loaded on the helicopters. One soldier was hit and had to be pulled into the third helicopter, which immediately took off. Finally the remaining soldier near her threw something toward the stairwell while the others kept shooting and then the three figures piled into their helicopter, which pulled off the roof at a very sharp angle as if to pull away from the structure as fast as possible, as soon as they were in. Explosions visibly rocked the upper part of the building. Seconds later the screen switched to show incoming two F-15 fighter jets overhead, pulling up sharply. The reporter began shouting in Arabic. Suddenly the camera shifted focus just in time to show missiles slamming into the Embassy compound, destroying the entire structure, collapsing it in flames and a cloud of debris The Al Jazeera cameraman was rocked backwards by the blast, his camera knocked out of focus and up toward the sky. After a moment, the reporter continued to speak in agitated Arabic and the camera was eventually refocused on the former United States Embassy in Islamabad.

Pam stood with her hand over her mouth. They were all just speechless just watching the burning rubble of the US Embassy. The last helicopter had barely gotten away.

Finally, Stefan spoke. "They were just going to blow up the whole compound, even if they still had people inside. Even if there were still people on the roof. They made her go _back_?"

Eric shook his head.

"They would never have risked sending her back. She's too valuable. She must have gone because she wanted to. To get them out."

Pam looked away from the TV. "It was like what she did in Rhodes, finding people. She told them where they all were… She saved her friends." she said in a whisper.

Rasul held up a hand for silence. "They say that another one of the helicopters may have been shot down by anti-aircraft fire." He shook his head soberly, not even looking at the screen as he listened to the reporter. "They don't have any information about which one."

The camera cut away to show smoke pluming into the air some distance away from the compound.

Pam looked at Eric questioningly. He shook his head tensely.

"I don't know. It's on the other side of the world, Pam. I don't feel anything. I didn't even know what was happening. I never have when she's gone on these trips." He shook his head. He sat silently, not joining further in the discussion, just looking almost vacantly at the TV. If she died, could he _not_ feel it?

Pam told Stefan and Andor all about Rhodes. How Sookie had saved their lives and the lives of a lot of other people. But not with people shooting at her and on a schedule limited by missile deployment. Andor was silent but looked over at Eric, shaking his head.

They sat watching the TV for another twenty minutes. There was little or no further information. Every once in a while Rasul would translate some of the reporters comments. It seemed that much of Pakistan had fallen into total chaos. There was no further information about the helicopter that had been shot down. Two of the five had been lost.

Eric's phone vibrated in his hand. He looked at the caller ID, which said _Restricted_. He answered in a strained voice.

"Hello?"

"Please hold for a satellite connection. You will hear clicking and then silence as the connections are made," said a male voice.

He waited for almost half a minute as a series of connections seemed to be made. Finally, a haggard sounding voice, with a great deal of static and background noise came across the phone.

"Eric?"

He closed his eyes. After a second he opened them and said, "Sookie, how are you, my Lover?" with his voice sounding ever so slightly tight. "It is good to hear your voice."

Pam whipped her head around, eyes wide. They all did.

"I'm fine. Right now I'm on my way to an aircraft carrier in the Arabian Sea. Um, listen, things kind of went south in Islamabad. I didn't want you to be alarmed when you heard about it. I think that what you're going to see if you watch TV probably looks pretty… bad. But I'm fine."

"Really. Well, actually I was just watching Al Jazeera with Rasul, Stefan, Andor and Pam. Quite an adventure. It gives reality TV new meaning. We could see you. Pam actually thought it looked like you were injured."

"Well, I got shot earlier today but I'm fine. It went clean through, right between my hip and ribcage. Probably didn't hit anything important because I'm still moving just fine. I have a pressure bandage on it. It's really nothing serious. But I honestly don't think I can make it home on Thursday. Tomorrow I'll be at Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany. I'll be there a day or two. I should be in DC by Thursday. I'll come home on Friday or at the latest, Saturday. You'll be happy to know that I think I'm going to be fired. But if they don't fire me, I'm quitting. I _promise_ you. I'll quit and come home. I can't do this anymore. Not another day. I have to let you go, okay? We want to call Mercan and Ahmed needs to call his brother. I'll call you from Germany. I love you."

"The same," he said softly. The connection ended.

Home. She didn't think she could make it _home_ on Thursday. As bad as the past half-hour had been, he could almost smile. This was home in her mind. Finally. And it only took almost dying on a rooftop halfway around the world. But, however, she got there, that was fine. That was Sookie for you. Thankfully, the fucking FBI job hadn't gotten her killed… She had promised to quit and come home. And he would make _sure_ she kept her word to him. He was totally done with being patient. It was more than enough already. She would come home and do something much less likely to get her killed. Like work for him. Or whatever the hell she wanted to do that didn't involve her almost getting killed. But she _would _quit.

"Well?" said Pam, looking exasperated.

"She says that she is fine, she was shot but that it was nothing serious and that she'll be here on Friday or Saturday. She'll be in Germany tomorrow. She must have done it against orders. She said they're going to fire her or that she's quitting. Maybe she's finally had enough." He rose from the couch and signaled to Stefan and Andor that they should head back to business. He glanced back at Pam. "Let's hope so, right?"

Very shortly after sunset the following day he was at his desk in his private library to check his email and Skype account when after barely a knock on the door Pam and Stefan entered and handed him a cordless phone. Pam looked distraught.

"Talk to her," was all she said.

"Hello?" said Eric, with puzzlement as he spoke into the receiver.

"Mr. Northman? Mr. Eric Northman?" said a woman's voice. Her accent was unusual to his ear. She sounded very stressed.

"Yes," said Eric.

"This is Alla, a friend of your… wife's. We work together. I … I… " her voice cracked and then in the background a clipped British accented voice said "Give it to me. I'll talk to him, he's not going to care if it's proper or not, Alla."

"Eric? Eric Northman?" said the man with the British accent.

"Ahmed?" asked Eric cautiously.

"Yes. Look, Sasha got shot. We were in Islamabad... well you already know all that... of course... she told you when we got out. Well, she was badly shot and has had a lot of internal bleeding. She collapsed yesterday when we got to the aircraft carrier. We're calling you from Germany. She's going to be back in the States today if they can stabilize her after surgery she's just had. She's in very serious shape. Alla's husband got this number for us. We called as soon as I could figure the sun had set for you. We wanted you to know how she was and where she'll be. We'll stay with her when she's transported. I guess to Walter Reed. It may be later tonight your time. It's 2:30 am here and they're talking about leaving around 6 am if she's stable enough."

Eric was silent for a moment and then said coolly, "How serious is her condition?"

Ahmed paused and then actually sounded choked as he said, "Well, she's almost gone and died. She lost a huge amount of blood. She's got some kind of serious infection from the open wound. They say she'll likely lose her spleen and a kidney. They were trying to be conservative by just controlling the bleeding first. They've got that under control for now but she's listed as critical. They can't do more surgery until the infection is better controlled. Our boss wants her flown back to the States."

"Back to DC tonight, then. How can I reach you for further information?"

"We've lost our cell phones and I really don't trust the bloody wankers in Quantico to tell you a damn thing. We couldn't even get their cooperation to get your phone numbers. The only way we got a hold of you was because of Alla's husband's assistance. Do we call you at this number when we know more?"

Eric gave him his cell phone number and his day assistant's number.

"Thank you, Ahmed. And to Alla, too. Thank you."

"She wanted us to call you. She was so worried about _you_. The only time she was lucid, she made me promise to call you. We just can't believe what happened. She'd been talking about quitting for over a month. She said this rubbish that at least if she got killed at home, she'd be dying happy. I had teased her about it, that she thought of dying at all. We wouldn't be alive without her having gone back. And she went back shot. Now I wonder if she saw something like this would happen, even if she says she doesn't do that. We just hope…" his voice trailed off. He sounded little better than Alla at that point.

"She's very strong," said Eric firmly. "She's always been very strong…"

_She'd been talking about quitting for over a month?_ And the _rest_ of what he said? Better to be home, she'd said?

* * *

When I woke up in the hospital bed and saw Eric reading, I really thought I must be having a dream. Maybe it was a weird flashback dream from one of the times he'd been there when I'd been in a hospital before? But he hadn't been reading those other times. Besides the room didn't look right. As I blinked into more awareness he glanced up and smiled.

"Nice to see you awake again, Miss I'm Fine and It's Nothing Serious."

I felt disoriented. My last clear memory was holding Alla's hand as we arrived on the aircraft carrier. She was on a stretcher because she had been beaten and could not sit up easily. We landed and I stood up and… I'd heard Ahmed's voice, saying my name. I'd turned and looked up at him. Then I remembered hearing Lt. Birch talking to me, and an arm supporting me, cursing in Arabic and then… nothing. I blinked again, slowly, and looked around to see Markus leaning against the wall, evidently on downtime.

"Where am I?" I asked finally in a whisper.

"Bethesda. Walter Reed."

I shook my head as if to get some sense into it. "How long have I been here? What day is it?"

"It's Sunday night, around 9 pm. You've been here since Wednesday morning. Alla and Ahmed called me from Germany on Tuesday. To tell me how you were fine except for all the internal bleeding."

I tried to assess how I felt now. I didn't feel bad or in pain or anything.

"But I feel pretty much fine."

He put the book down in his lap and crossed his arms.

"I gave you blood."

"What?" I still felt slightly disoriented. I had definitely had some sort of opiate or something. I recognized the scrambled thinking from the time I'd had the surgery on my breast. And the headache. But I didn't see anything other than IV fluids hanging and something that looked like one of those smaller bags for antibiotics. No pump for pain medication. But I still felt out of it. Anyway, I looked over at Eric. I was happy just seeing him. I smiled at him. But then I grasped what he was saying: he had given me _still_ _more_ blood. "You're serious? More blood? Again?"

He looked at me levelly and said, "You're fine. It wasn't a lot. And now you're fine."

I took a moment to absorb his words and then felt a jolt as I absorbed what he was telling me. Was he basically saying that I'd almost died and he gave me his blood after promising me years before that he'd never turn me if I was dying? Well, I hadn't turned, but…

"Bill told me once that sometimes people turn later, with no warning, Eric," I said with alarm.

"Well, _I've_ never seen that happen with anyone, Lover. I gave you my word. They'd given you a lot of whole blood. It wasn't as if you were drained and I gave it to you. I keep telling you that you can trust me to know what I'm doing. I was thinking you might like hanging on to the spare kidney. You kept the kidney but lost the spleen. The first surgery was in Germany on Tuesday. You had the second surgery to remove the damaged spleen on Friday in the morning. You had a bad infection from the open wound. They thought they'd have to go back yesterday to take the kidney. That's when I finally just gave you blood, early in the morning yesterday. They took out the drains this afternoon. They finally cut the morphine after that. You really don't remember anything since you arrived?"

"How long have you been here?" I asked, kind of dazed.

"At night, since you arrived on Wednesday at 5 am. I only saw you briefly and then had to leave. Alla stays with you during the day. Or Ahmed. You really don't remember anything? You were sort of awake sometimes. You could talk a bit after they took out the tube for the respirator," he said shaking his head with an uncertain smile.

I shook my head. I really didn't remember anything. It was incredible to me that I'd been out of it for almost a week.

"Most unfortunate."

"Why? What should I remember?"

"Well, for one thing, you said you'd marry me. You were so very agreeable. You were really delightful. I really could have asked you for anything and you'd have agreed. I should have asked for a lot more," he said with a playful look, eyebrow raised. "But I do have witnesses," he said nodding toward Markus.

I just sniggered.

"We will talk about that when I'm fully lucid, thank you. I have a sense that an answer when I'm not high on morphine is probably more meaningful to you, anyway. Is Alla really okay? And Ahmed? They both weren't in good shape when we got them."

"They are both recovering just fine. They have been very worried about you. And Manny is still not recovered, Lover. It has been interesting to talk to him. You cannot imagine how upset he was with what happened."

"Well, excuse my crocodile tears. He had them pull me and leave Alla and Ahmed, Eric. Evidently our interpreters are just expendable. And all those other people left in that building? The army guys would have had to just give up and take off again without them. An empty gesture, futilely risking more people's lives by even trying to fly back there to rescue people they had no intention of helping them find? Well, _screw them_. It was obvious that the best way to rescue them was for me to go back. It was the only way it was worth the risk of asking them to fly back in there."

"You have to understand that from their perspective you are irreplaceable, Sookie."

"Yes, Eric, I'm a _very_ special asset. I get that. I've been somebody's asset for five fucking years and I'm done with being seen that way by anyone. And I'm not cut out to deal with people according to how much they're 'worth' to the FBI or our government. Am I worth more than a woman with an infant to raise? A man who is so highly educated? And all those other people that got left behind? They were just doing their job. How can one person be worth more than another? It's a shitty and disgusting concept. I won't be part of it."

Eric looked at me like he was siding with Manny on this one, but not going to argue with me at the moment.

"Well, you'll have your wish, one way or another, Lover. If they don't fire you, you've already given me your word you'll quit and I have every intention of holding you to your word. But perhaps you should talk to your boss before you condemn him. It was evident to me that he found the situation with respect to Ahmed and Alla very distasteful. It did not seem to me that it was his idea. But no matter what the source of the problem was, you have given me your word. I will not accept anything less that what you promised me. You're done here."

He looked at me with very cold eyes as he said it. I could definitely see that he was not kidding. I might be barely awake but I was awake enough to know that I was not changing my mind, anyway.

"Well, don't worry. I give you my word _again_, Eric_. _I'm done."

There was a knock on the open door and I glanced over to see, much to my surprise, Barry Horowitz.

"Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?" Barry asked.

Even Eric looked surprised and Markus moved to blocked Barry's path. Barry looked apprehensively at Markus and then at me.

"We know him, Markus. It's fine," said Eric.

Markus leaned back against the wall, but indicated that Barry should stand on the other side of the bed from where Eric was sitting.

_What are you doing here?_ I asked Barry.

_What are _you_ doing here? I heard you're in a bundle of trouble, as usual. Are you feeling better? Recovering?_

_What do you mean you 'heard'? How did you even know I was here? Why are you in the DC area?_

He smiled.

_You didn't figure out that I was your NSA counterpart, eh? Well, I guess I was more careful than I thought._

_You're kidding me. I heard a rumor that NSA had a telepath. I never thought it was _you.

He offered me his hand with a smile.

_Hi, I'm the NSA telepath, nice to meet you. You must be that Bureau telepath, right? You look mighty familiar. And you, my friend, never told the Bureau where to look for me. You never even told them where I had lived or who I'd worked for in the past. No matter how they cajoled you, you kept my information away from them. You were a loyal friend, Sookie._

_I thought you didn't want to be found if they couldn't find you. How long have you been NSA?_

_I started a few months before you signed with the Bureau. But it seems like you've logged a lot more hours in the field than I have._

Eric continued to look back and forth between the two of us as if he was at a tennis match. Suddenly I realized how rude we were being.

"Eric, I'm so sorry… We got carried away. Eric, I'm sure you remember Barry from Rhodes. Barry, you remember Eric, my… husband."

I figured since the last time that Eric had seen Barry he was very angry about how I was dancing with him that I could clearly define things for Barry in a way that would make Eric quite happy. Plus, if Barry was here on some little fact finding mission, maybe thinking I was securely attached to my vampire was safer.

Barry looked stunned. Eric looked more than a little pleased.

"You're _married_? Wow. I didn't know you were married at all? That's a real lapse on my part. Actually, I always figured you'd end up with a Were or were or something. My girlfriend is a Were. I can read her a bit. I know you could read Weres and weres before. Can you read vampires at all now?" he asked, looking quite interested.

"Very seldom. Maybe once in a great while, I get a flash or something but it's fleeting and it gets me so freaked out that it's pretty much useless." Then I immediately regretted saying it. Opiates could really erode your judgment.

Eric turned slowly and looked at me with a surprised, dark look. I tried to brush the whole thing off and continued,

"Being with a vampire is more like things are for everyone else in that I have to figure things out the old fashioned way. You know talking and reading body language. I'm really bad at it though, aren't I?" I chuckled at Eric.

"Only bad about discussing the important things, Lover…" he said, glowering a bit.

"So, I heard through the grapevine that you might be leaving the Bureau. Is that true?"

I looked at Barry circumspectly, puzzled. If I'd been out for days, then only Eric, Ahmed, Alla and the soldiers on that helicopter knew I was planning to leave unless I'd been talking about it when I was delirious or something.

"Where did you hear that, Barry?"

"Um, the transmission recordings of your calls when you were out over the Arabian Sea. You know, we hear everything to be heard. I think you said you were either going to be fired or that you'd quit? I hear the Bureau _is_ rather ticked, in spite of the fact that you basically helped save fourteen people. State's certainly happy with you. And I think Ahmed said he was going to quit, too? He's your Urdu guy, right? Can't see him going to the private sector, frankly."

I didn't like where this was going.

"Um, Barry, just so we're clear, if I'm leaving, I'm leaving, period. Not making a lateral move. I can't speak for Ahmed, or for Alla, but if I leave, I'm gone. And Ahmed is not 'my Urdu guy'. He's a linguist. He speaks five languages and he's probably the best-educated person I've ever met. Oxford and Harvard and he has a whole library in his head. Reading his mind is like accessing an encyclopedia. So don't you dare call Ahmed 'my Urdu guy'. It's totally insulting. Plus, if you'd done your research, you'd know that he's Al Saud and can pretty much write his own ticket to do whatever the hell he wants to do." I was really offended by his offhand manner about Ahmed, as if he was my minion or something.

Barry seemed a little bit chastened by my attitude. He had also planned to ask about Alla but decided quickly to hold off based on my reaction to his little misstep with Ahmed. He knew that Alla and I were friends, too. He had come on a little recruiting mission. He wanted to put together an intelligence team that relied on telepathic abilities. And I had field experience he couldn't even begin to dream of.

"I wasn't thinking about a lateral move for you. It would definitely be a promotion."

"I'm really not interested. I appreciate the thought, your confidence in my abilities, everything. But really, I just don't feel I can do this type of work any longer."

Then I tried to be very careful to empty my mind of every thought so that he would have nothing to latch onto. Just to be on the safe side. He could tell. Repeating 'empty, empty, empty' is a kind of telling to a telepath. He stared at me as if surprised that I wasn't interested and that wouldn't let him hear my thoughts any longer. Just before he me cut off his, I heard him wondering if I'd suffered PTSD from the whole thing in Islamabad. I could have laughed at him at that point. He thought I was afraid of the Taliban and the terrorists. I was really afraid of not being able to make my own decisions and choices.

"Well, I'll leave you my card. You know, you could work pretty much from anywhere but of course you would have to come into Fort Meade for meetings and such. Just… keep us in mind. And if your people ask about me, put in a good word. Both your interpreters seem to have been excellent selections. I hope you recover well, okay? And thanks again for the privacy stuff." He nodded to Eric. "Mr. Northman. Good night."

Eric waited until Barry was well out the door and then turned to me and said in a low voice,

"Since _when_ do you get flashes into vampire minds, Lover? Since when?"

"Occasionally. It's totally unpredictable."

"Have you ever read me?"

"That I'm really sure of, only a couple of times in the entire time I've known you," I said quietly.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "_When_?"

"I don't know Eric. I guess the one I remember most is the first time, in Fangtasia when you had me come to interview people because Long Shadow had stolen your money."

"You read me back _then_?" He looked genuinely shocked.

"Yeah. It was the first time I've gotten anything from a vampire, actually. I was really afraid of you back then. I thought your mind was all cold and slithery. It scared me. But I was already afraid of you. It wasn't your thoughts that scared me."

"And now?"

"Now I'm only scared of you when you say we need to talk." I said with a chuckle.

"But what about now? Do you still get these 'flashes' now?" he pressed.

I thought about it. I really wasn't sure what to say. And I wasn't too sure I wanted to be talking about it in front of Markus. There were so many times recently where I thought I might have been hearing his thoughts. But we'd become so much closer that I really couldn't say for certain that it was that I was telepathically reading him. Maybe it was just knowing him or feeling him through the bond? I frankly couldn't tell sometimes. Some of it felt more subtle than the way I normally read people.

"To be perfectly honest, sometimes I don't even know, Eric. Maybe we can talk about it later," said casting my eyes in Markus' direction for Eric's benefit. "Did they say anything about when I can be discharged?"

He raised an eyebrow as if he didn't quite buy it that I didn't know, but he got my point about Markus. At least he didn't really look or feel upset from what I could see.

"Maybe in a day or two, Lover."

"Where are you staying?" I asked warily. I didn't want to think about him in some vampire hotel room, especially if only Markus was with him. I had no idea who the King of Maryland might be or if he was friendly. "Is Markus the only one with you?"

"Someplace safe. Don't worry. And Andor is here, too. He's outside. There are only supposed to be two people in the room at a time, so they have been alternating. The hospital has been interesting in response to having vampires in your room. After you lived through the first few nights, however, they have been a little more... gracious," he said with a sour expression on his face.

"You've really been here since _Wednesday_?" I asked kind of incredulous. That was a long time for him to be away from Louisiana. And a long time to put up with people being unpleasant and acting like you were going to drain their patient.

"You almost died, Sookie. I really think it would be better if we could have a long period of time where nothing happens to you. Maybe a few decades. Would that be possible?"

I wanted to have a long period of quiet, too. I would be happy to move back to Louisiana and have just that. Although…

"Eric, when I move back, would you mind if I lived on my own?" I said quietly.

His expression darkened. He snapped his fingers and signaled to Markus to leave and waited until he did so.

"Why would you suggest such a thing to me? Especially in front of Markus?"

"You just discussed asking me to marry you in front of Markus. You asked me about reading you. In front of Markus. _That's_ all okay but my asking a question isn't? What's the deal?"

He stared at me with ice cold eyes. His face looked like it could have been carved from marble or alabaster, cold as stone. Finally he spit out his reply.

"I have been here for five nights watching over you and you're telling me that you want to move back to Louisiana to live on your own? You are trying my patience and tolerance to an extreme. I let you have your way, the freedom to do your horrible job, take all the crap you have put me, put _us_, through while you try to figure things out. I have turned my life inside out for you for years now, while you slapped me with attitude and coldness time and again. I thought we finally were past that. And now you'll try it in front of subordinates? Well, there _is_ a limit to what I'll take from you and you're rapidly approaching it," he said in a low but very cutting voice. He looked, and acted, very angry but what I felt was his being hurt again. My heart lurched. He didn't understand me. I struggled to think of how to explain it.

He looked away from me and said after a moment, "We shouldn't even be having this discussion now. You haven't been well. Just forget it. But no more discussion in front of Markus or even in front of Andor."

"Eric, I don't mean it the way you think I mean it. It came out wrong. I just… I need the daylight, okay? To look out the windows and see the blue sky or the sunsets. I'll come back home. I'll marry you, if you want to get married. I will. I do see what you've done to be with me. And what you've been through because of me, some of which is so God awful that I still can't stomach it. But how much am _I_ supposed to concede to in order to be with you? Do you ever think about what I'm giving up? Is it even on the radar for you? I'll never be able to talk to you except during the nighttime when there are already all these other demands on your attention and time. Nighttime for other people is family time but it's never going to be that way for me. Ever. There's a whole long list of things that I grew up thinking were just part of a normal everyday relationship that I'm _never_ going to have if I'm with you. That's fine. I can accept it. All the political bullshit that I always just hated, that I'm even afraid of, fine. It's you and it's what you want and who you are. Well, this is me: I want daylight. And I want Rosie. And I have to work. Or I'll literally go insane. I need to live somewhere where I can have those things. I'll give up all the rest. But not those." My eyes just filled with tears. I was mad I'd hurt his feelings and wondered if I'd ever be anything other than inept at handling things in relationships. Maybe Pam was right and I was just damaged.

Eric listened to my whole speech, then finally rose and came over to sit on the edge of the bed, next to me. I had had this sense that he was holding himself apart from me since I awoke and I worried that he was also angry with me for having gone back to help rescue all those people and my friends. He stroked my hair back behind my ear and wiped away a tear that streaked down my cheek. Then the floodgate seemed to break and I was crying and mad that I was crying. My head hurt and I didn't know why I was having an argument when I just woke up and had been so injured. After a minute he said,

"Honestly Sookie, sometimes your communication skills just leave me in disbelief. Had it ever occurred to you to tell me any of this, other than the job issue, before? Of course, I took it the wrong way. I thought it was just more of the usual. In front of Markus, no less. Sunlight? Your problem is _sunlight_? I can provide sunlight for Pam's orchids but not for you? And how much of my time would you have if you lived elsewhere? I don't even understand how you think of this stuff sometimes."

I just leaned over and cried on him. Cried because I'd been so scared. Cried because I'd been afraid he'd never forgive me for going back to the embassy. Cried because I just wanted to go home.

"I thought you'd hate me for going back… And I was so worried you could feel it." I said, sniffling and shaking my head. Eric just stroked my hair. I felt so soothed by his touch.

After a while, when I was calmer, he said,

"It will all be fine, Lover. I understand your need to work. But remember, if they don't fire you, you promised me you would quit. Whatever the work is, it will be a different job and in New Orleans." He shifted closer to me and kissed the top of my head. He just held me. "As for the rest, we'll find a way to make it work. You will have your sunlight, and the cat. Just…" he sighed heavily, "_rest_." I leaned my head against his chest and put my arm around his waist. I could feel him shaking his head and feel more than a bit of frustration on his part. But not anger anymore. He just held me for a while and we were silent.

Andor came in and leaned against the wall where Markus had been standing. I glanced over at him and he nodded his head at a bit of an angle and smiled to say hello to me.

"Var försiktig när du kämpar med den modiga flickan," Andor said to Eric in a low voice, with a wry smile.

"Dra åt helvete," Eric said in a harsh tone, shaking his head as if in disgust.

I lifted my head and looked over at Andor who looked quite amused and then up to Eric and asked, "What exactly was the comment?" All I knew was that 'flicka' was girl. Stefan had been teaching me some Swedish on each of my visits since June. And of course I was learning more from my birthday present from Ahmed, too. Andor spoke Norse, Norwegian, Swedish, German and a smattering of other things like Dutch and French. But he was using Swedish, so I could only assume that if he was teasing Eric in Swedish, he wanted me to _know_ he was teasing him because they usually just fell back into Norse.

"Andor's just looking for his one way ticket to Svalbard, Lover," said Eric acerbically.

I looked back at Andor. Andor crossed his arms over his chest and looked very pleased with himself. He was clearly teasing Eric. He met my eye and nodded, saying,

"I told him to be careful fighting with the brave girl," with a snort. "He could get injured."

I stifled a laugh. I seriously wondered whether even Pam would have been able to get away with that one.

"Skitstövel," was Eric's reply. I had the feeling that he really wasn't paying Andor a compliment. Andor just cracked up.

Markus entered the room with a sack that contained a six pack of True Blood and the three of them drank several and appeared to bandy about insults in various languages. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. Eric stayed sitting on the bed with me. A nurse came to check on me and looked as if she thought about asking one of them to leave but appeared to think better of it.

I was discharged the following evening, with my doctors proclaiming that it was a miracle that I'd kept my left kidney and that I had recovered so quickly. Even the scarring looked like it would be minimal. The scars were already mostly healed from Eric's having me ingest his blood. The attending physician looked puzzled but said little. Even the bullet entry and exit wounds looked like they wouldn't scar badly at this point. On the other hand, I had achieved a soft glow in the dark that had me totally worried. Eric told me again that it was fine and that he knew what he was doing. Since the daylight didn't seem to bother me, I figured he was right.

When Eric came back that evening to collect me he paused as he entered the room to look at Ahmed, Alla and me, playing Hokm on my hospital bed. The three of us were erupting in laughter over the game as Eric entered the room. Ahmed had just returned that afternoon from NYU, where had accepted a lecturer position in the Linguistics Department. He was going to teach for a year. Alla had tendered her resignation that morning to Manny, after confirming with me that I was really leaving the Bureau. She was going to take a break and was considering interviewing at the State Department or NSA. Mercan wanted her to teach Farsi. A nice safe job, she said. The sparkle in her eyes made it clear that was far too boring a prospect for her.

Early in the morning I got a delivery from a courier with my new cell phone, new passport, various documents lost in the embassy and my badge and a notice that my service weapon was with my unit in Quantico. As I had checked my email with my new phone that morning I was amused by the collection in my Inbox. First, I was informed by personnel that I was being docked five days of salary for insubordination. I requested an explanation and was told they would forward the documentation. The personnel email was followed by an email copy of an official letter received in my office, stating that I was receiving an award from the State Department for valor, along with the info from our unit's secretary that I had received a handwritten note of thanks from the US Ambassador to Pakistan. While the State Department seemed to appreciate me, my employer, the Justice Department, didn't seem to feel the same way. But that seemed to change because several hours later, I received a phone call from the Assistant Attorney General's office informing me that I was receiving an award for heroism. Ironically, at the time I received that call I was reading a faxed copy of the letter Manny's boss, Chuck Powell, the head of the FBI's Counterterrorism Unit, had written assailing my unprofessionalism and insubordination. That letter led to my salary being docked and was now in my permanent personnel file, along with the award letters from the State and Justice Departments. I had to laugh at the absurdity of it. I emailed my resignation a short time later to Manny and copied Chuck, since it appeared that even defying orders wasn't going to be enough to make them fire their only telepath. Manny called me right away. He asked me what I was going to do. I said I was going home and planning to rest for a while. I'd think about long term plans later. I got this really odd feeling that he was relieved that I was leaving. Not because he didn't like me or like working with me, but precisely because he did like me. It was hard to read a person over the phone, but I really thought that he hadn't argued about Powell's letter precisely because it paved the way for me to leave, and for the Bureau not to fuss as much about my leaving. The perception left by Chuck's letter was that I was just too difficult and could be unmanageable. I was grateful. He was making it easy for me with his silence. Before he said he'd talk to me later, he told me my vampire was a very interesting guy.

In the afternoon I sat watching the limited TV news coverage I could find of the total chaos in Pakistan. It really looked like just as the US was pulling out of Iraq that we were going to be entering a far more dangerous and frightening war. It was, thinking of everything I knew about the region, a very auspicious moment to leave the fray. I was glad that Alla, Ahmed and I were getting out when we were. We had served a good purpose, we all agreed while we visited that evening. But we were done. I was haunted by the ten minutes that I had spent on that embassy rooftop. I wondered how many people I'd killed. People's sons, fathers, husbands, brothers. Of course, I realized that I'd have to let it go. They had attacked us. Self-defense was justifiable, I told myself. Perhaps I'd finally learn to be at peace with that concept. But I hadn't. Not quite yet… I knew what it was to lose people you loved.

In the evening I called Remy and Hunter from Eric's cell phone. Hunter sounded very happy when we spoke. He was excited that I was going back to New Orleans and that I was moving back home. I promised to come and see him when I was more settled. But we could Skype until then. He enjoyed that. Then I called Jason. Eric had called him several times, to keep him posted about me. Jason sounded relieved to hear my voice and told me that he was getting pretty sick of my getting so injured all the time. I had to agree with him. I asked him to tell Sam I said hi. I wanted to go up and visit my house in Bon Temps in a few weeks.

After signing my discharge papers I sat waiting while Eric and Andor made arrangements for us to depart. Markus was arranging the flight, which Eric said was a private one from Dulles. Eric had Ben packing up Rosie's things and we were going to stop by my apartment so that I could pick her up and collect enough belongings for an extended stay in New Orleans. I'd come back to Alexandria and pack up in a few weeks when I was fully recovered.

I had hugged Alla and Ahmed goodbye for now. After they left, I remembered how I felt when I was pulled from the Embassy and they were left behind, to be beaten and possibly much worse. The look on Ahmed's face when he came out of that stairwell and saw me would stay with me forever. And the tears in Alla's eyes as she grasped my hand and whispered her raspy thanks for coming back for them. I reflected on how it felt during that long hour while I argued my way back to the embassy. The utter anguish of knowing that my friends were trapped in that place and there was so little I could do to help them as the minutes ticked by. As I wondered what was happening to them and if they would even be alive when I got back there. I remembered the relief I felt, up on that rooftop, when I caught their thought signatures as I locked on to that familiar sarcastic voice in Ahmed's head and felt the chill of the first time I had ever heard real fear in Alla's mind. It couldn't help but lead me to imagine Eric, and what he might have thought and felt when I was with Neave and Lochlan. It was bad enough thinking about that but I tried to imagine _feeling_ it, knowing something unspeakably horrible was happening to the person you were in love with, feeling the terror and pain of it. All while having to deal with political bullshit and the people who work for you possibly rebelling because of your choices. I quickly came to the conclusion that I really _couldn't_ imagine it. As I listened to him on the phone talking to Stefan in Swedish, I thought about how much he must have loved me to put up with all the stuff he'd had to take not just from me, but from the people around him for his loving me. And I'd questioned his saying he loved me after everything he went through?

He really deserved a better me.


	15. Chapter 14

**XIV.**

**December 2009**

I sat in the window seat petting Rosie and looking out at the gray winter sky. I was reading _Middlemarch_, because I'd promised Pam I'd read it. It was part of what I 'owed her for the stress my friendship had imposed upon her'. Basically, it was her favorite book and she was thrilled to have another victim to discuss it with, as Eric saw it. It was a really good book but quite long. I sighed and closed the book on my finger for a minute. I played with my hair trying to decide if the color was really back to the right shade of blonde. I guessed it was pretty close.

Today was Sunday and tomorrow, in spite of all the busy last minute planning going on, Amelia and I would be looking at office space for our business. We had formed a security consulting service in October. Wards, security installations for entry and egress, all the usual stuff. The need for better security for various supernatural groups was still a big issue, but even New Orleans human clientele were interested. We were already inundated with appointments and paid jobs. Some of it wasn't even just Louisiana business. Running things from Amelia's house wasn't giving us enough space. We were going to need a real office. Eric wanted us to use office space in the compound but I longed to be able to have an excuse to go outside during the day and I needed to be with some humming human minds. We had a list of properties to explore.

The inception of our business had been my completely revamping (and how I loved that pun) the security in Eric's compound. After the cool October evening on which Pam had pumped 15 rounds of silver bullets into three vampires from Area 2 who went after Stefan and Eric with silver knives while Andor was out of the room, I was really done with tolerating the laid back security attitude and told Eric and Bill off. Pam was relieved to have gotten rid of the last of Felipe's Area 2 crew as she had said they should have from the beginning. I shuddered to think of what might have happened if Pam hadn't been there. Stefan recovered slowly from the silver poisoning, although he was able to at least resume working after a week in darkness and an absolutely inordinate amount of fresh blood on the advice of Dr. Ludwig. His color was finally looking better, less gray. Eric was not seriously injured because Stefan had dodged in front of the blades. Eric and Markus had sliced up the three vampires with their swords, but I really thought that it was Pam's handiwork that did the three of them in, slowing them down appreciably the moment she saw them draw their knives. Following that night, Eric was more than willing to concede that an upgrade of the existing system was really needed. Within a week we had installed SecureScan imaging detectors that could even detect cell phones, let alone knives and other objects. I had the detectors running with a backup power source in case the electricity went out. All the locks on doors to the private areas of the Compound were changed to a system that scanned your entire hand and still required a passcode. I was still trying to decide whether retinal scans for very secure areas, like the bedrooms, were overkill and if they would work with vampire eyes. My source of information about the best systems was none other than Manny, who was happy to offer his expert advice or put me in touch with someone who could. Manny and I had also talked about the possibility of my doing consulting work for the FBI. But I was hesitant. I wasn't sure I wanted to be drawn back into any potentially dangerous situations. He mentioned the possibility of interviewing mobsters or kidnapping suspects. I told him I'd think about it. I didn't want to do anything that would upset Eric. Of course, I was working regularly for Eric, too. Sitting in on meetings with him or talking with people who worked around the compound during the day, keeping an eye on things.

In the meantime, Eric had shifted the room assignment of the private rooms neighboring his rooms on the library side and had the space completely renovated to provide a daytime area for me. By beginning of November I had a long bow window with a window seat, set in a spacious room, with a daybed, bookcases, a desk and my own bathroom and closet space. In an adjacent room, a small kitchen and dining area were set up, so that I could cook for myself. Ruben was politely relieved. I still slept in the bedroom with Eric, of course but it was easy to cross the dark library during the day and go sit on my side and work. Or I'd just go out of the compound entirely to meet with Amelia. Rosie had free rein throughout our rooms, which took up almost the entire west side of the building.

I sighed and picked up the engraved card that I was using to mark my place in _Middlemarch_. I was thinking a late afternoon nap was in order. It would be getting dark soon, anyway. I glanced at the card as I slipped it inside to mark my page. It had been altered with Eric's fancy script and my own handwriting.

-

The honor of your company is requested

at the marriage of

Miss Sookie "Sasha" Stackhouse

to

Mr. Eric Northman

Friday, December 25th 2009

At 9:00 pm

In New Orleans, Louisiana

Private transportation to a secured location to be provided

-

My name had been crossed out and replaced above it by the name 'Miss I'm Fine, Nothing Serious, Forget About It' in Eric's hand writing. In response I'd scratched out his full line and replaced it with 'Min Älskade, aka As You Wish, As Long As It's My Way'. Eric had recently been saying that our song at the reception was going to be Sinatra's "My Way". To which I replied that, clearly, he was marrying someone _else_, in which case I was going to be extremely offended. Eric enjoyed it when I called him my beloved in Swedish. As long as I wasn't arguing too much when I said it.

Eric liked the idea of marrying on Christmas day. Pam actually came up with the idea. Since I celebrated Christmas but he wasn't even a Christian, it made my holiday into our mutual day to celebrate something. He was going to be so shocked when he saw my dark red Vera Wang wedding dress instead of traditional white. Pam and Amelia, my bridesmaids, were sworn to secrecy. The lady who owned the bridal store was so scandalized it made me laugh. I was calling it my Scarlett O'Hara moment.

It was going to be an understated wedding. I didn't feel comfortable asking people to come to a lavish celebration given what was going on in Pakistan. The ongoing US involvement in the war against the Taliban was a serious and frightening one. It had made strange alliances between Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan and the US, and strife with India and Russia. I had been steadily contributing to non-governmental aid organizations- those providing medical care like Doctors Without Borders, and to groups building schools and clinics in Pakistan and eastern Afghanistan like the Central Asia Institute. Really, I couldn't see spending a fortune on a one time event when that same money could vaccinate several villages or build an entire school and buy every child textbooks. But it still had to be fancy enough to suit Eric, though. Vampires really love pomp and spectacle.

I closed my book on the invitation, kissed a purring Rosie and walked back across to the bedroom. I brushed my teeth and brushed my hair. After undressing, I climbed up into the big bed and snuggled up to my vampire. I sighed happily as I wrapped my arm around his waist and closed my eyes, with my cheek on his cool shoulder.

I had to admit, sometimes it's really a good thing to be spectacularly wrong.


End file.
